Again
by blueeyedcherry
Summary: She fell for him as he fell from grace. Love can't save a soul that doesn't want saving and words can't always mend a heart after it's broken. My FAGE 8: Soul Mates piece written for cejsmom. Rated M for language and heavy stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Shout out to Team Cherry - Itlnbrt worked wonders with her red pen skills, beegurl13 whipped up a stunning banner (you can see it on Facebook) and WitchyVampireGirl was an amazing help when it came to ironing out some plot kinks, even though she had no idea what she was helping me with. ;) I also want to say a word of thanks to abstract way, who was kind enough to answer some questions I had about the art world.

This story was written for cejsmom in FAGE 8.

-N.

Characters belong to SM and any films, songs, recognizable places, etc. belong to their respective owners.

* * *

 **-Chapter 1-**

 _Chicago, October 2012_

"What are you doing here?" My words are icy daggers meant to penetrate every part of his heart not already hardened. When he doesn't answer, I fold my arms over my chest and step out from behind Alice's desk. "Is this some kind of twisted joke?"

A familiar fire comes to life behind his eyes and if it weren't for the hard edge of the desk under my bum, I'm positive my knees would buckle, and I'd be a pile of twisted limbs on the floor. "Hello, Bella."

Two words … spoken in a gravelly voice and accompanied by the softening of his features, and I know I'm doomed. It's been ten years since I last laid eyes on him. Ten miserable years, most of which I spent in a loveless marriage, while he went in and out of rehab, doing god only knows what between those stints. I'd had ten years to heal, yet every one of my wounds still felt fresh.

I'd learned a few things in those ten years however, and the single most important lesson is how to love myself. _I deserve better than Edward Cullen. I will not give this man the opportunity to break my heart again._ I repeat this mantra in my mind like it's futile, the force will shift, the earth will quake, and mountains will fall, if I fail to take these words in and act them out.

"What are you doing here?" I repeat. I'm not interested in making small talk. All I want is for him turn his well-dressed, only-getting-more-delicious-as-he-gets-older self around and march right back out the door.

"I'm supposed to meet with Alice," he explains, running a hand through his always-unruly hair. His other hand goes to his hip, pushing his suit coat back and giving me a preview of the dark blue dress shirt beneath. I don't miss the way it hugs his torso, or the definition beneath it. Taking note of my silence, he continues, "She's showing my newest collection. I'm dropping the pieces off. Bella, I—"

" _You're_ Masen Edward?" I throw my hands in the air before fisting them in my hair. My heels click loudly against the floor as I begin to pace. "Perfect. This is just fucking perfect. Did you know I work here? How did you figure it out?"

"Bell—"

"What are you even doing in Chicago in the first place? What happened to your, 'I'll never leave Minneapolis if my life depends on it' attitude?"

"I—"

"If you think you can just waltz in here, looking like a movie star and—"

"BELLA!" He shouts this time, not out of anger, but in a way meant to capture my attention. I sink back down onto Alice's chair, thoroughly exhausted though I've only been in for an hour. Once he realizes I'm going to stay quiet, he speaks again, his tone soft and dulcet. "I live here now. In Chicago. It's a fresh start of sorts. And this … this is my first showing since … well, since you." He looks down at his feet and slips his hands into his pockets. "I want to answer all of your questions, Bella. Perhaps you'll join me for a cup of coffee and we can talk?"

My stomach twists as unshed tears burn behind my eyes. The hope in the voice of the man that stands before me is endearing, but all I can think about is the boy he used to be; the boy who captured my heart and kept it in his pocket while giving his own over to a substance that I just couldn't compete with.

I clear my throat, trying to get some of my composure back. I need him to leave before my entire day goes to shit. "I can't do that." His expression falls and I have to resist the urge to step forward and dance my fingertips across his cheek. "You can bring the pieces in here and I'll make sure Alice gets them."

"Bella—"

"I have an important buyer coming in at one and I need to pull a few pieces for him to look at." I pull my laptop toward me and get my game face back in place. Edward says nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me for another minute before he finally turns and heads out the office door. He returns moments later, carrying a large canvas bag. Two men follow him, one of whom I recognize as a popular artist agent, bags in their hands as well. They make two more trips, lining all the bags and two larger wrapped canvases up against the wall.

Edward is almost out the door when he turns to me once more. I grab my phone and pretend to dial a number. "Good luck with your showing," I mumble, holding the device up to my ear and looking down at the top of my desk.

"I'll see you around, Bella."

When I glance up, he's gone. I drop my phone on the desk and lean forward, curling my arms over my stomach and tucking my chin into my chest. The tears I've worked so hard to hold back begin to fall and, just like that, half of the wall around my heart—the one I've spent the past ten years constructing—turns to dust.


	2. Chapter 2

**-Chapter 2-**

 _Chicago, 2012_

"Hold up!" Rosalie flails her arms around Kung Fu style, dropping her fork and knocking over her ice water. Every head in the restaurant turns in our direction and chagrin creeps up my cheeks. I sink down as low as I can in my chair and pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, tugging on the white strings until only my nose is visible.

"Could you kick the theatrics down just a notch, please?" I hiss through the fabric. "We're not in my apartment right now."

"You just got done telling me Masen Edward is actually _your_ Edward—Edward lips-stuck-to-the-bottle-candy-up-the-nose Cullen—and you expect me to kick down my theatrics? No way, Izzy! This is too crazy!"

I pull my hood off at the same time our waiter appears. He's got a stack of napkins in one hand and a water pitcher in the other. His expression is one of amusement rather than annoyance.

"Can you please continue with what you were saying?" Rose prods after her mess is cleaned up. I reach across the table and grab her water, moving it next to me and out of the blast zone.

"Masen Edward is Edward Cullen." Each time I say the words the reality of the situation slaps me in the face. I spent most of the previous night hoping and praying that the scene in the gallery had been nothing but a nightmare. That my subconscious was up to no good and wanted to torment me with incredibly realistic memories of the man who had broken me so long ago.

Alice's ass crack of dawn phone call this morning dashed my hopes, however.

" _What did you think?"_

" _It's seven am on a Saturday, Alice. You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that."_

" _For gods sakes, Bella! What did you think of Masen Edward? He's a catch, huh? And so talented!"_

 _I sat straight up in bed, wide-awake and supremely irritated that his name was the first thing I had to hear to start my weekend. "He's … meh."_

" _Meh? MEH? How can you even say that?"_

" _Because I can." I yawn and fall back against the squishy pillows. "This is his first collection, right? And yeah, it's good, but who's to say the rest will be? For all we know, he'll be a one hit wonder in the art world."_

" _What's gotten into you, Bella? I mean, at least give the guy a chance to show what he's made of before you decide to hate him!"_

" _I'm hanging up now, Alice."_

" _Wait, I wanted to talk about the one paint—"_

" _Goodbye, Alice."_

Rose shakes her head, disbelief playing on her features. "Of all the art galleries, in all the cities in this country, he had to waltz into yours. Unbelievable. Does Alice know?"

"Know what?" Our pixie-like friend magically appears, slipping off her coat and taking a seat in the chair next to Rose. She's all smiles and dancing eyes as she surveys the mess of food spread out between us. Pregnancy isn't something that looks good on everyone, but for Alice it fits perfectly. She rubs one hand over her swollen tummy, waiting for one of us to get her up to speed on the conversation.

"The new and amazing artist whose showing opens Monday is none other than Bella's college boyfriend," Rose explains. She reaches for her water and I give her a stern bitch brow before returning the glass.

Alice's eyebrows push up as realization sets in. "The same college boyfriend who was more interested in what he snorted up his nose than your relationship?"

Rose nods. "That's the one."

"Masen Edward is Edward Cullen," I say matter-of-factly, then shove a few fries in my mouth. The words taste less bitter this time, and I wonder if I'll become immune if I say them enough.

"So that's why he's just 'meh'. It all makes sense now." Alice flags down the waiter and puts in her order.

Since moving to the Windy City, Saturday lunch had become a sort of tradition for Rose and me. Once I started working at the gallery, and got to know Alice, she quickly fell into place in our small social circle. Now the three of us met every week to catch up on what was going on in each other's worlds.

"So, who's overseeing this opening in two days?" Rose looks back and forth between Alice and me, her eyes filled with concern. Snarky as she can be, she's my oldest and best friend, and I know she understands what a big deal this is.

"Well, I was going to have Bella take the ropes for the night. Given recent developments, I think Jasper will have to handle things."

I groan. "I don't want to be _that_ woman, Al."

"What woman?" The two ask at the same time.

"The one who lets a man interfere with her life." I push my plate away and look out the window. The hustle and bustle of the city comforts me. It's a reminder that even though things in my own world are up the air and all over the place, normalcy still exists out there. "I gave Edward control of my emotions once and that was more than enough hurt for one lifetime. I'm not going to let him influence the way I do my job, so I'll oversee the opening as planned."

Rose raises an eye skeptically. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Don't get me wrong, I love your train of thought, but if it were me, in your shoes, and Emmett had done shitty things all those years ago, then jumped back into my life unexpectedly, I'd probably want to kill him. And if we were forced under the same roof for a whole evening … well, I probably _would_ kill him."

"I do want to stab him in the eye with one of his own paintbrushes," I admit, earning a giggle from Alice. "But I've worked far too hard to get where I am, and I won't let that go for a guy. So, I'll oversee the show, be the professional I am, and once the night's over, I can forget that Edward Cullen ever happened."

"Except he lives here now, B. And you're both involved in the art world. You're bound to cross paths at some point." Leave it to Rose to be the devil's advocate.

"Okay, we've talked about my predicament enough. I'm officially moving the spotlight over the both of you." Rose and Alice have no problem commandeering the conversation, and we spend the next two hours talking about baby names and Rose's plans for her parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. When our bellies are full, and we've met our weekly gossip quota, we say our goodbyes and head off in different directions.

Rays of sunlight filter through the gaps between buildings on Michigan Ave., warming my cheeks and the tip of my nose. It's unusually warm for mid-October, and I say a silent word of thanks to Mother Nature for giving us a reprieve from the usual fall temps. I take off on foot, weaving my way through the Saturday afternoon shoppers, street performers, and tourists. Twenty minutes later I arrive at the gallery.

"Hey, Bella! Happy Saturday!" Jasper's greeting is warm and friendly, made only more so by the big grin that's spread across his face.

"Afternoon, Jas."

He takes in my attire and frowns. "You're not working today, are you?"

I laugh. "No, no, don't worry. I'm an off-duty gallery director today. I just stopped by, so I could take a look at the pieces for Masen's collection before we hang them."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Jasper waves a greeting to one of our best patrons and then turns his gaze back on me. "Take all the time you need back there. His work is pretty spectacular. I think you'll feel a connection to some of the pieces, too, when you see them."

"I'm sure I will," I mutter as I head towards the office. The canvas bags that hold Edward's work rest against the wall, in almost the same position he'd left them yesterday. I run my fingers over the top of one bag and smile sadly. Somewhere, in a different time and place, I'd have already seen these paintings. I'd have been there when he painted them, maybe even been a part of the process. Aside from missing him, I miss his creativity and his passion for the work he created.

I unzip the bag and pull out the canvas in the front. I prop it up against the wall and step back to look. The painting catapults me back to the city I'll always love, despite the heartbreak that drove me from it. My gaze travels along the shapes and lines that make up the Minneapolis skyline, nestled comfortably behind the expanse of the Stone Arch Bridge. The colors are rich and vibrant, the style abstract, and I can't stop the corners of my mouth from curling up in a nostalgic smile.

The next painting is done in the same style, but with a different focal point. It's Edward's artistic take on Spoonbridge and Cherry, a well-known sculpture by Claes Oldenburg and Coosje van Bruggen. Instead of the traditional cherry, Edward's is exploding, lending an air of darkness to the piece.

When I get to the third painting, my heart leaps straight into my throat. Soft, warm colored strokes make up the naked back of a woman. Her brown hair is fanned across the pillow beneath her head, sheets thrown haphazardly off, like the bed got too hot in the middle of the night. I drop to my knees in front of the canvas, reaching out and brushing my fingertips over the lines of the tattoo that decorates her shoulder blade. Bits and pieces of wrapping paper are scattered about on the floor behind the bed, and a small package with a gold bow sits on the empty pillow next to the sleeping woman.

"That one is my favorite." I jump at the sound of Edward's voice. I glance over my shoulder and see him there, shoulder propped against the doorframe and ankles crossed. He moves his hands from his pockets through his hair and back again. I swallow hard, trying to cage the renegade butterflies that have unleashed themselves in my stomach.

"I can't believe you remembered," I whisper, turning back to the canvas. The night unfolds in my mind like it was just yesterday. It was our senior year of college and Edward and I had just gotten our loft. We existed amid the whirlwind known as young love, and had elected to spend the holidays together in Minneapolis instead of going home to our parents.

We ate lots of delicious Chinese takeout, opened gifts, and spent the rest of the evening between the sheets, wrapped up in one another. When I woke the next morning, I was mortified to find Edward up and sketching me.

"I remember every minute of the time I spent with you." His words are enough to make the happy Christmas memories fade. They're quickly replaced by thoughts of the less-than-perfect moments in our relationship. Images of Edward, drunk and coked out of his mind, flash through my head. I think about all the times I had to pick up the pieces he left broken, all the nights I spent alone, wondering where he was and if he was okay. Some people could look back on their former love and smile, but it wasn't that way for me. The bad memories exceed the good, no matter how I choose to look at it.

"I doubt that." I stand and slip the paintings back into the bag, zipping it shut and propping it against the wall.

"I do." He pushes off the door and takes a few tentative steps towards me. "I know you're still angry, and you have every right to be, but I'd really like a chance to get to know you again, Bella. For you to see who I am now and how sorry I am for all that happened."

Part of me wants to give him a chance, to hear him out and let him explain. But a bigger part of me—the part that holds the wound that never fully closed, and now feels as fresh as the day our relationship ended—won't let me. "Not going to happen." I make a beeline for the door, but he grabs my elbow. His fingers meet the fabric of my sweatshirt and I freeze. A wave of emotion surges through my body, starting at the top of my head and working its way to the tips of my toes. I shrug my arm away as Edward holds his other hand out.

"These are for you." I look at what appears to be a stack of letters and then back up to his face He must read the confusion on mine, because he continues. "I wrote these during my final stay in rehab. I mailed them to Renee's address, because I had no clue where you were, but she always sent them back to me. I kept them, because … Well, I always had a feeling I'd see you again, somewhere, somehow. Take them, please."

It's like my hands have a mind of their own and I'm watching from the sidelines. Before I know it, I'm clutching the stack tightly between my fingers. Edward moves toward me, and I can tell by his movements that he's going to try and hug me. I clutch the letters to my chest and turn, running across the gallery and out onto the crowded Chicago street.

I'm three blocks from the gallery when I stop to catch my breath. Curiosity takes hold and I slip a letter from the stack, tearing the edge off the envelope and yanking the paper out. My eyes roam over the page, taking in Edward's messy scrawl. I can't see the words through the tears that well up in my eyes.

A tsunami of memories slams into me and, before I've even had a chance to read what's written, I'm transported back to a time I've spent the last ten years trying to rid from my memory.


	3. Chapter 3

**-Chapter 3-**

 _Minneapolis, December 1998_

I was a sweaty, mascara-streaked, alcohol-infused hot mess the first time I met Edward Cullen.

It was New Year's Eve, and I was a freshman in college. After many attempts, Rose and Kate had persuaded me to accompany them to a frat party. I was still somewhat of an introvert, the small town, country girl, learning how to navigate the big university campus in the Twin Cities, a fact that my two friends had grown used to. They insisted we go out and celebrate somewhere other than our dorm, however. It was our first New Year's Eve away from our parental homes and that was cause enough for celebration. So, I reluctantly agreed to paint the town as red as the skimpy dress Rose had outfitted me in.

I should have known better than to think I'd spend the evening with Rose and Kate. It only took an hour for the girls to lip-lock themselves to a pair of tall, dark, and devilishly handsome guys, which left me flying solo in a house full of people I'd never met before. So, I did what any shy, young woman would do: found the wapatoolie, and went to town.

Three glasses of the fruity concoction were all it took to turn me into Bella Swan, life of the party. I went from social anxiety to social butterfly in a matter of an hour. I dragged Mike Newton on top of the pool table when Shaggy's "Luv Me Luv Me" came on, and spent the next five minutes grinding against him while everyone around us cat called and cheered. I smoked a joint with Royce King and Riley Biers and won a game of quarters against Bree Tanner. I danced, I drank, I laughed, and I drank some more, before finally finding myself dancing solo in the corner of the overly crowded living room. I was completely unaware of the time, but when someone slipped a pair of glittery "1999" glasses on my face and handed me a noisemaker, I knew the countdown was nearing.

" _Ten … nine … "_ A chorus of voices rose above the ridiculously loud dance music, but I stayed in the corner of the room, head tilted back and eyes closed, swaying my hips to the beat of the song.

I didn't need to look behind me to know he was there. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention and I shivered, not from the air brushing over my exposed skin, but from the electric current that had started humming through my veins. The soft fabric of his shirt brushed against the back of my shoulders and I gasped, blinking my eyes open. I stilled my movements and attempted to turn around, so I could see who was there, but he grasped my hips and squeezed gently.

"Keep dancing," he whispered. A sheen of sweat covered my skin and as his hot breath fanned over it, goosebumps pebbled up on my arms. I closed my eyes and swallowed, feeling remarkably sober despite all I'd had to drink. He squeezed my hips again and it was the encouragement I needed. I began to sway back and forth once more, losing myself in the music, the noise, and the feel of his fingertips pressing against me.

" _Six … five … four … "_ I opened my eyes once more as he brushed the hair away from my neck. His fingers were like fire, igniting every inch of skin they brushed over and making all the blood in my veins rush to the surface.

" _Three … two …"_ He spun me around before I could process what he was doing. My eyes landed on his hard chest, covered in a red and black plaid flannel shirt. My gaze traveled upward, over his perfect neck and stubble-covered, angular jaw, before settling on his eyes. They were beautiful, the same shade as the first fresh sprigs of grass that crop up after winter gives way to spring. Fiery passion danced behind them and I wanted to stay right there, forever lost in the basil hued depths.

"One." His lips pressed against mine, soft yet firm, giving and taking. Noisemakers blew off around us, confetti flittered down through the air, landing in my hair and sticking to my skin, but I didn't notice any of that. All my attention was focused solely on the nameless stranger with the captivating eyes.

I eased my lips open and felt his tongue slide against mine—welcoming, exploring, pushing and teasing. I'd never been kissed like this, like the world might end and take both of us with it if we broke apart and lost our connection. I gripped his shoulders and pulled him flush against me. I couldn't get close enough to him. I wanted to claw my way up him, crawl inside, and get lost in him.

He pulled away and sucked in a breath, resting his forehead against mine and pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. His teeth nibbled across my bottom lip and I moaned, tipping my head back farther to give him better access to it. His assault continued as his lips traveled along my jaw, down my neck and across my collarbone. I was vaguely aware of the sounds of whistling and clapping coming from somewhere close to us, but I couldn't focus on anything but the feel of his warm, soft lips.

"Happy New Year," he murmured, nibbling gently on one of my earlobes.

"Happy New Year," I answered, kissing his jaw. He pulled back and cupped my face between his hands, staring at me for a moment before pressing his lips to my forehead one last time. Then his hands were off me and he was gone, striding quickly toward the front door.

I stood rooted in place, wondering what had just happened and what the hell I had done to cause it to end. I wanted to run after him, but my feet were cemented to the ground. I kept watching his retreating form, holding my breath when he came to a stop and turned around. His gaze roamed over me and when his eyes reached my face, he simply winked.

I snapped out of whatever trance I was in and bolted forward, weaving my way around the still-dancing bodies and flying out the front door. My stranger was halfway down the front walk, hands shoved in his pockets and chin tucked against his chest.

"Wait!" I yelled. A few of the people mingling on the porch turned to face me, but I ignored their stares. The icy winter air prickled against my skin as I slid my feet out of my heels. I ran barefoot down the snow-covered steps and across the lawn, ignoring the stinging sensations on the bottom of my feet.

"Wait," I called again, jumping in front of my stranger and blocking his path. He raised his head and smiled, his breath coming out as small, foggy bursts in the night air.

"Your name." He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brows. _English, Bella! Full sentences!_ I crossed my arms over my chest and cleared my throat. "Don't I at least get your name?"

My stranger smiled—an ear-to-ear, face-splitting smile that lit up the street more than the stream of moonlight that shone down on us. He ran a hand through his coppery-brown hair and let out a throaty laugh.

"Why is that so funny?" I asked.

My stranger slid his hands back into his pockets and nudged me to the side with his shoulder as he pushed past me. He turned around and continued walking backwards away from me, the same smile in place.

"You're really not going to tell me your name?"

He shook his head. "Just think of me as the luckiest god damn guy at this party."

My cheeks flushed, and I bit my lip to stop the infatuated girl smile that threatened to break free. "Luckiest guy at the party, huh? And why is that?"

I didn't think it was possible, but he grinned even wider. "Because I rang in my new year by kissing the most beautiful girl there."

He turned and walked away once more, leaving me and my pounding-like-crazy heart there on the street, grinning like a god damned fool.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** For those who don't know, wapatoolie is an amazing liquor concoction, consisting of about 3-4 bottles of hard liquor, a bunch of fruit juice, and a bunch of sliced fruit. We used to make ours in big, Rubbermaid bins. It's quite dangerous, although I don't recall ever having danced on any pool tables after indulging in it.

As a side note, this entire story was inspired by the Adele song "Hello." If you haven't heard it yet (how could you not have?), go give it a listen. Seriously, that woman is nothing short of brilliant.

xo

* * *

 **-Chapter 4-**

 _Minneapolis, 1999_

After our stroke-of-midnight kiss, Edward was all I could think about. Try as I might, I couldn't get him out of my head. His lips were the first things on my mind when I woke up each morning, and his eyes were the last things I saw behind my lids when I went to bed each night. I longed for flannel shirts and dirty dancing, kisses that tasted like peppermint but felt like fire. I asked some of the guys from the party if they knew who he was, but nobody seemed to have a clue. I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd probably never see him again.

The university liked to torture its art history majors by forcing us to take several hands-on art classes. I had a few years to go before I needed to worry about my major coursework, but I wanted to get the painful stuff out of the way early on. Rip the Band-Aid off so I could focus on what I loved later. So, I took a leap and signed up for drawing.

I loved art. I loved it more than anything else. I loved to study it, to look at it, and to critique it. I did not love to create it, and I had little to no talent, especially when it came to drawing.

On the eve of my first assignment critique, I'd stayed up almost all night trying to perfect the shading on a charcoal still life of a cornucopia. I finally stumbled to bed after three in the morning, so thoroughly exhausted that I forgot to set my alarm. I woke up a few hours later, freaking out immediately because my class had already started. I knew I probably wouldn't get to the art building in time, but I tried anyway, and as I was running down the corridors of the floor that contained the studios, I rounded a corner and slammed into something hard and warm. The force knocked me backwards, and I fell in a heap on my ass.

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a bit mortified …" my words trailed off when I cracked one eye open and saw springtime eyes staring back at me. Two blinks of my eyes and one pinch to my arm told me this was not in fact a dream, and that the kissable stranger from New Year's Eve was towering over me.

The corner of his mouth turned up in a delicious smirk. "Holy shit. It's you. Strawberry Girl."

I frowned. "Strawberry Girl?"

"Your lips tasted like strawberries when I kissed you." He reached a hand out and I grabbed it, letting him pull me up into a standing position.

"Strawberries? Oh, yeah, probably from the wapatoolie," I blathered. His eyes were still on me, but his smirk had transformed into a full-blown smile.

"Are you an artist?" He nodded his chin in the direction of my portfolio. I laughed loudly as I bent to pick it up.

"Only if you call stick figures a form of art. They're about the only thing I can draw."

"So, you haul a portfolio around for the fun of it?"

I laughed again, only this time it came out as a high-pitched cackle. "I'm in drawing right now."

"So, you are an artist then?"

I shook my head. "I'm an art history major. We need take some art classes, though. So, here I am." I noticed he had a portfolio propped against the wall as well. "Are you an artist?"

He smiled. "Something like that."

"Shit!" I looked down at my watch, which told me it was now after nine.

"What's wrong?"

"I was late when I got here—hence the whole running down the hall like a mad woman thing. I missed my first critique."

He winced, and a look of sympathy passed over his face. "Ouch. Not a good way to jumpstart a drawing career."

I stared at him for a minute before breaking out in laughter. He followed suit, and soon we were standing side-by-side, clutching our stomachs and trying to catch our breath.

"So, Strawberry Girl, do you have a name?"

I considered being coy, much like he was the first night we met, but decided straight forward was a better approach. "Bella. Bella Swan."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He stuck his hand out and I grabbed it in a shake. "I'm Edward Cullen."

"It's nice to formally meet you, Edward."

"I think I liked our previous, completely informal introduction better." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously and I felt my face heat up.

"I better go find my professor before she thinks I jumped ship on her class." I heaved my portfolio over my shoulder and turned to book it down the hall.

"Bella?" His voice stopped me, and when I turned to face him once more, my breath caught in my throat. His eyes burned into me, intense and vivid, flashing with an emotion I'd never seen before.

"Yeah?"

"Can I see you again? Intentionally, this time."

I sucked my lip between my teeth and bit down on it to keep myself from screaming as my heart and stomach did back flips. "Sure. That sounds great." We exchanged information and settled on a day and time.

I felt like I was walking on clouds the rest of the day—even when my drawing professor told me I'd earned a big, fat "F" on my first assignment.

.

.

.

Four days later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, an unfamiliar girl staring back at me. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun, my mahogany eyes had a thick coat of liner around them, and the navy dress Rose outfitted me in made my boobs look two sizes larger than they really were. I looked amazing, except for the blotches of red that dotted my neck and chest.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered, fanning myself with one hand. I was having a Cher Horowitz moment and I didn't like it.

"If you'd listen to me and go outside for a few minutes, it would go away," Rose huffed as she waved her lab workbook back and forth to generate cool air.

"I don't want to run into Edward looking like this!"

"It's not going to matter if you run into him outside or if he comes to the door, genius, you're going to see him either way."

"I'd rather prolong the inevitable then, thank you very much." Ten minutes later it became clear that our efforts weren't working. Rose put the workbook down and thrust a pair of heels at me.

"Get these on and get outside. And stop freaking yourself out. That's only making it worse." I rolled my eyes at my friend as I did the awkward, one-foot hop while slipping on the shoes. I grabbed my coat and purse and flung the door open, only to find a startled Edward on the other side.

"Whoa. Excited to see me, huh?"

"I, uh …"

"She was just stepping outside for some fresh air before the big date." Rose stepped around me and stuck her hand out. "Rosalie Hammond, roommate, best friend, and ass kicker of any man who breaks this one's heart."

"Edward Cullen, flannel shirt connoisseur who has no intention of breaking any hearts," he answered, shaking Rose's hand and laughing. "I like this one," he half-whispered to me.

"She's good to keep around most of the time," I stage whispered back, earning me a swat on the back of the head.

"It's nice to meet you, Edward Cullen. Try not to bring our girl home _too_ early tonight." The door hit my ass at the same time Edward shook his head.

"She's a trip. I bet you don't have a dull moment around here." His eyes raked over my body and that sexy smirk played on his lips. "You look incredible."

"Thank you." I shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to make the next move.

"Please tell me you have better plans for the evening than hanging out in a dorm hallway?" Rose's voice was muffled by the door, but I could picture her on the other side, pressed against the wood while she stared shamelessly out the peephole.

"Let's get out of here," Edward muttered. He reached for my hand and slipped his fingers between mine, leading me down the hall and out into the cold night air. We came to a stop in front of an old Jeep Wrangler and Edward opened the passenger door. "Your chariot awaits."

Once we were both comfortable, Edward started the Jeep and took off toward downtown. I had no idea where we were headed, and I didn't know him well at all, but none of that mattered. I felt comfortable with him. Maybe it was because I'd spent the first ten minutes I knew him with my lips glued to his, or maybe it was his easygoing nature and the hearty sound of his laughter as it bounced off the Jeep's windows. Whatever it was, being near him just felt … right.

"We're here." He pulled the Jeep to a stop and I took in my surroundings.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

Edward opened my door and held his hand out, helping me down onto the curb. "I have it on good authority that this is your favorite gallery in the cities." He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the dark gallery.

"How did you…" my words trailed off when he flipped the lights on. The scene before me took my breath away and left my heart racing. A small table sat in the middle of the space, covered with a white linen cloth and set for two people. Beside it sat a cart, filled with Chinese takeout containers and an assortment of beer.

Edward wrung his hands together and looked down at his shoes. The tips of his ears and his cheeks were colored pink. "If I could afford to take you to a five-star restaurant I would, Bella. Unfortunately, the whole college-student-on-a-budget thing poses a challenge."

I stepped forward and closed the gap between us, laying one finger over his lips and smiling. "This is perfect."

"Really? he asked, eyes lighting up.

"Really." He relaxed then, taking my coat and pulling a chair out for me. Once we were both seated, he started opening containers and we dug in.

"How did you know this was my favorite art gallery?"

He finished chewing his moo shu pork and grinned. "Truthfully? I've seen you here practically every weekend since the start of the school year."

My brows show up to my hairline. "What?"

"Okay, hold up, because that sounded way more crazy-stalker than I intended." He set his fork down and took a swig of beer. "My cousin owns this place and the coffee shop next door. I help him out in the shop when he's short-handed, which is typically on Saturdays. And, well, I've seen you come and go a lot."

"So, you knew who I was on New Year's Eve?"

His gaze dropped down to the tabletop and a nervous laugh escaped him. "I couldn't believe my luck when I wandered into that party and the first thing I saw was you, alone and swaying to the music. You were so beautiful in that moment." His eyes turned to liquid jade and his voice lowered. "It was like you didn't give a shit who saw you or what they thought. You were in your element, doing your thing." He shook his head and the smirk I'd grown so fond of appeared. "I couldn't not touch you; couldn't not kiss you."

My heart thundered against my ribcage, beating so hard I feared it might fly right out of my chest. I kept my eyes on his, caught in his intense gaze. "Why didn't you tell me who you were then?"

Silence fell over us and just as it began to become uncomfortable, he spoke. "I'm an average Joe, Bella. I don't come from much, I don't have a lot to give, and I have a closet full of skeletons. And you, well … you're amazing."

"Edward, you don't even know me—"

"I don't have to," he continued. "It shines right through you, from the inside out. The last thing you need is for someone like me to come along and dull your sparkle."

"You won't do that," I whispered. He pushed his plate aside and propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward until his lips were just inches from mine.

"How can you be so sure?"

I swallowed hard and mustered up the courage I knew was buried somewhere inside me. "You have sparkle too. Even though you don't see it. And that means there's no way you can possibly dull mine."

A dozen different emotions muddied his eyes. I saw confusion, fear, determination, doubt, and finally, happiness. I wasn't sure what had happened to leave this beautiful man feeling so broken, but I knew that in time, he'd share.

Bit by bit, minute by minute, we spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other.

And when his lips met mine at the end of the night, I knew there was no way he could dull anything about me. Not when his every touch made me feel so alive.


	5. Chapter 5

- **Chapter 5-**

 _Minneapolis, 2000_

I fell hard and fast for Edward Cullen.

One date turned into another, which opened the door to a full-blown relationship. We spent our days in class and our nights together. I'd hang out in the studio while he worked on his paintings, and he'd quiz me on 17th and 18th century European artists. My friends loved him as much as I did, and our time together passed by in a blur.

We were halfway through our sophomore year when Edward met Jessica Stanley and Jacob Black. They were seniors in the art program, and the first to welcome him to an upper level class he'd been accepted to. He introduced me to them at a party and, at first glance, they seemed like good people. If I had known then how the things would play out, I would have done everything in my power to keep Edward as far away from them as possible.

When sophomore year ended, I found myself with no choice but to return to my barely-a-dot-on-the-map hometown, Granada. Edward was lucky enough to have the option to stay in the cities with his cousin Eric. So, we bid one another farewell and I headed south, putting 150 miles and a little over two hours between us.

I came back to the cities as much as I could, which wasn't often since I had to share an old, rickety pickup truck with my sister Angela. Edward and I talked almost every day, and despite the distance I felt just as connected to him as ever.

When the beginning of August rolled around, I begged my mom to let me go up to Minneapolis for a long weekend. I hadn't seen Edward for weeks and was starting to go stir crazy. She reluctantly agreed, and I loaded up the old Ford and headed for my home away from home.

The minute I got to Eric's house, I knew something was off. Edward had black sheets pinned over his bedroom windows, making the room dark even though it was a perfect sunny day. His paints, which he always kept neatly organized in a toolbox, were scattered all over the room. Brushes lined the windowsill, paint hardening the bristles and rendering them useless. An unnerving feeling settled in my stomach, but I tried to brush it off. Edward was busy after all, working part-time and doing a summer program. The scene before me was probably the result of an overflowing plate.

"You're here!" Edward swooped up behind me, arms circling my waist and lips peppering kisses across the back of my neck. I leaned back against him and closed my eyes. The warmth of his body comforted me, and the unease I felt moments earlier melted away.

"I am," I whispered. We stayed like that for a few minutes, my head on his chest and his chin in my hair, simply enjoying the feel of one another. When he finally let me go and spun me around, I gasped. Edward's eyes, normally bright and intense, were dull and bloodshot, the skin beneath them shadowed with a nasty purple hue. His hair was greasy and stuck out in fifteen different directions. The front of his shirt was covered with dried up smears of paint and it looked like he hadn't shaved in at least two weeks. Under normal circumstances, his disheveled appearance might have been sexy, but coupled with the condition of his room, something about it felt off. Wrong. It was like someone had taken my Edward and replaced him with the unfamiliar version standing before me.

"Are you okay?" I asked, cupping his cheek with my hand and running my thumb along his bearded jaw. He closed his eyes and sniffled, leaning into my touch.

"I will be now that you're back."

"What's going on here?" I leaned away and jerked my chin in the direction of his bed. He blew out a loud breath and wound his arms around my waist once more, pulling me against him and resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Things have been chaotic," he explained. I buried my face in his chest and inhaled. The smell of stale cigarettes greeted me, and I cringed. Edward didn't smoke … or at least, he hadn't at the start of the summer. "This program I'm in is really intense and I'm under a lot of pressure." His voice was low and gravelly.

I leaned back and looked up at his face again. He met my gaze for a second before looking away, focusing his eyes on something on the other side of the room.

"Have you been smoking?"

He laughed and moved away from me, turning around and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah I have. No use trying to hide it."

I wanted to say something more, but had no idea what to even start with. The air between us grew uncomfortable and a heavy ache settled in my chest. I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, but a small mirror on the top of the nightstand caught my eye. I stepped closer and realization washed over me.

"What the hell is this?" I grabbed the mirror and the straw that sat on top of it, shoving them in Edward's face. His eyes grew wide and he tried to take the objects from me, but I moved my hand out of his way. I reached for the nightstand once more, my fingers closing around a small baggie of white powder.

"Bella …" His voice trailed off and he rubbed his hands over his face. "I know what this looks like, but I promise you, I can explain."

"This looks pretty fucking bad, Edward. That's what this looks like." I glanced down at the baggie as bile rose in my throat. Edward was pacing the room, looking at the bed, the wall, out the window … at anything but me.

"It's not an issue, Bella. Honestly." He bit his lip and peeled off the hoodie he wore, tossing it on the bed. "The only way I'm going to get to stay in the advanced courses is if I produce some really amazing shit for the final project in this program. Everything is due in a week, and I just … I needed an extra kick. Something to help me stay awake and make the most of out all 24 hours in the day."

"So you dive right into cocaine, Edward? Seriously? Where did you even get this from?"

"Jessica knows someone—"

"Jessica? Jessica is your drug dealer now?" I threw my hands up in the air, dropping everything I was holding. "I thought you were above this kind of shit, Edward. You have so much talent when your head is in a clear place. You don't need this shit to create amazing things! "

"I'm not relying on the blow to create anything for me, Bella. I just … I needed a pick me up, okay? It's a one-time thing. You don't need to freak the fuck out like this."

"I love you, you asshole. Of course I'm going to freak the fuck out!" I dropped down on his bed, elbows propped up on my knees and head held in my hands. "So, what? You're going to snort shit for the rest of the summer and stop when you get the grade you're looking for? This isn't the same as when we get together with the girls and smoke a joint or two. This is the real deal, Edward. You're not going to be able to just put it down and walk away."

The bed dipped as he sank down next to me. He leaned into me, resting his head on my shoulder and sighing. "I'm sorry. I know this is a shitty spot for me to put you in. And a horrible thing for me to do."

I rested my head on top of his and blew out my own sigh. "I wish you'd have said something to me if you felt like this was your last resort."

"You couldn't have done anything to help me, Bella. I shouldn't have put myself in a program like this when I knew I wouldn't have time to do all the work it required." We sat like that, leaning on one another in silence, for who knows how long before I finally mustered up the courage to ask the question I needed to.

"So, what now? " I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do?"

He sat up and I looked over at him. He looked so tired, so defeated. My heart broke for him despite the anger I felt.

"I'm done." He stood abruptly, grabbing the bag of coke and the mirror and making a beeline for the bathroom. I got up and followed, watching on as he emptied the contents of the bag into the toilet and flushed the drugs down. The mirror went into the trash, followed by the straw.

"I'm done," he repeated. I stepped forward and wound my arms around his waist, pulling him to me in a crushing embrace.

Those two words were enough to give me hope that Edward—and our relationship—would be okay.

.

.

.

 _Minneapolis, 2001_

After our fight, Edward promised me he was finished with the coke. In addition to flushing the drugs down the toilet and throwing out the paraphernalia, he considered some counseling options through the university. He was bummed when he didn't get into the next set of advanced level classes, but it wasn't the end of the world. School started up again and we fell back into our routine. It was easy for me to forgive and forget because my Edward was back again, and it felt like the episode in August had never happened.

Seven months passed, and spring break rolled around. When Rose turned 21, her dad surprised her with a girls-only spring break trip, so she, Kate, and I headed off to Punta Cana for seven days, six nights of tropical bliss. Edward was originally going to road trip to Florida with a few guys from one of his classes, but their plans fell through at the last minute, leaving him stuck in the snow.

I never wanted to become the girl who couldn't go a week without talking to her boyfriend. I never thought of myself as the type to spend time pining over a guy when I could be enjoying the palm trees, the ocean, and rum. After about four days away from Edward, I became that girl. I missed him. All the little things I loved about him played on a loop in my mind; his smile, the tiny moles at the nape of his neck, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. I even missed having his clothes strewn all over the room.

That was when I decided: I wanted to live with Edward. And I wanted it to happen as soon as we could possibly make it.

I decided I was going to tell Edward about my newfound desire the night we got back. He was planning on picking me up from the airport and taking me out to dinner, and that seemed like the perfect time and place to make such a big declaration. Unfortunately, our flight got delayed, which left me riding with Rose and Kate back to the place we shared.

I tried calling Edward twice when we landed, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Another call in the cab home brought the same result, so I decided to do what any love-crazed, über-excited girl would—drop off my luggage and pay him a surprise visit.

The first thing I noticed when I got to Edward's place was the noise. Loud rock music filtered through the door, and I wondered how he'd managed to not get the cops called on him. The door was unlocked so I pushed it open and stepped inside. I was greeted by a gust of cold air that carried the smell of cigarettes and stale alcohol. I reached behind me and closed the door softly, then covered my nose with my hand.

"Edward?" I called out, poking my head in the kitchen. Dirty dishes overflowed from the sink onto the countertop next to it. A stack of pizza boxes sat next to the trash, which was overflowing with empty beer cans. _Oooookay, maybe he decided to have a spring break party._ I rounded the corner to the living room and stopped dead in my tracks. Edward was crouched down in front of a huge canvas, paintbrush in one hand and Jack Daniels bottle in the other. He was buck-naked, with paint streaks covering his otherwise pale skin, and his hair had been shaved close to his head. I watched as he jumped up, running the brush across the canvas so quickly I could barely keep up with what he was doing. A manic cackle left his lips just as he turned to face me. My heart sank when I took in his bloodshot eyes and the familiar mirror by his foot.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Spit flew with his words and I instinctively took two steps back. A violent chill ran up my spine and I crossed my arms over my chest protectively. I wanted to answer him, but the words wouldn't come. He stared at me, pupils dilated, eyes wide and wild, for a few moments before bringing the bottle of Jack to his lips and taking a large swig.

I blinked, wincing as the hot tears in my eyes began to fall. Edward set the bottle down on the floor and turned back to the canvas, dipping his brush in a puddle of black paint and splattering it everywhere. His movements were jerky and every few seconds he'd mutter something under his breath or let out another manic laugh. I stood and watched until disgust and anger replaced the sadness and shock coursing through my veins.

I didn't care if we lived together anymore. I didn't care if I ever saw him again. I just needed to get away from him.

"I'm leaving," I muttered, my voice barley more than a whisper. He glanced over his shoulder at me before sidestepping to the stereo and turning up the music.

"I never asked you to come in the first place." His words were like a knife, sharp and cold, slicing my chest open and carving out my heart. I turned and ran out of the apartment, through the hallway, and into the cold, dark street.

I ran until I was blocks away from Edward. I ran until I couldn't take the wind biting at my cheeks or the burning in my lungs. I ran until I had nowhere left to run. Then, I sat down on the curb, in the middle of a street I had no idea the name of, and let my tears fall freely.

.

.

.

"Bella?"

I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. The wood bumped against my back as his fist met it in another series of knocks.

"Bella? I know you're there. I can hear you breathing."

"What do you want?" I croaked.

"I thought we were getting brunch this morning. You know, since we couldn't get dinner last night?"

I let out an angry laugh. "You can't be serious right now, Edward."

"Why do you sound so pissed off?" That was the last straw. I spun around and whipped the door open, sending Edward falling forward onto his face in our foyer. He rolled over on his back and looked up at me, eyes flashing. "What the fuck, Bella?"

"How much blow did you snort up your nose before you left the house this morning?" He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to retort, but I kept going, letting all the anger I felt fly freely from my lips. "I can't fucking believe you! I can't believe you'd come here and act like everything was fine, like nothing happened last night."

"Last night? I didn't even see you last night, Bella. Your flight was delayed!" He pushed himself up into a sitting position and frowned. "Which is why I'm here now. Because we agreed to get brunch—which you don't seem to remember."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" A door creaked open behind me and my neighbor stepped out into the hall.

"Everything okay out here?"

I threw him an apologetic smile. "We're fine, Mr. Banner. Sorry for the noise." I stepped around Edward and into my own apartment. He stood and closed the door behind him, following me to my room.

"What is going on, Bella?"

"You tell me, Edward." I crossed the room, stopping in front of the window. The sun was in the middle of a battle with the clouds and a few rays had broken through, casting a goldenrod glow over the street. I watched as a group of people walked by, all smiles and laughter and happy faces. I could feel Edward standing behind me, but I didn't make any effort to move. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. "I came by your house last night—which you don't seem to remember."

"You … what?"

"I stopped over last night after we got back. To surprise you." I finally turned, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. Edward looked like he wanted to vomit.

"I don't even—"

"Just cut the bullshit already, Edward! I was there! I saw the drugs. I saw the booze. And you made it perfectly clear that you didn't want me around."

"Bella, I …" his words drifted off as he ran his hand over his head, fingers searching for messy hair that was no longer there. He twined his fingers behind his head and paced back and forth across the room. "I don't know what to say. I don't remember you being there."

"You can't lie your way out of this, Edward!" I took a seat on the edge of my bed, kicking my toes against the wooden floor. "When did you start using again?"

"Bella, I'm not lyi—"

"When did you start using again?"

He sighed. "Jake gave me some right after you left for your trip. It was a consolation thing, for the road trip falling through and all that shit." He sat on the opposite end of the bed and fidgeted with his hands. "It felt rude to turn it down—"

"Rude? Are you fucking kidding me?" I jumped up again, standing in front of him and putting my hands on my hips. "It's a DRUG, Edward. An illegal fucking substance that has the potential to fuck up your entire world! It's not like he was giving you an ugly sweater or a pair of socks. It's COCAINE, Edward. I just … I can't believe you. And then you have the nerve to show up here and lie to me, after you all but told me to get the fuck out of your place last night?"

"Please, just let me explain." He flopped back on my bed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "I honestly don't remember, Bella. The last thing I remember was doing a few lines with Jessica and then going down to Sally's. I don't even know how I got home."

The tears were back, forming behind my eyes once more. I sank to my knees and tucked my chin to my chest. "I can't do this, Edward."

"Can't do what?" he asked in a thick voice.

"Stand by and watch you go down this path. It's not fair to either of us." I looked up at him, traitorous tears falling down my cheeks. "You promised me this wasn't going to happen again. It was a one and done thing, a stupid mistake you made last summer. Not something that you'd start again in the spring, as soon as I was out of sight and out of mind."

"It's not something I started again, Bella. It's a casual thing … Dammit! If I like it occasionally and can control it, what's the problem?"

"Control it? Edward, you got so fucked up you blacked out. You were acting like a crazy person. And you were rude as fuck to me. I don't think that constitutes control."

He was silent, holding my gaze until his own tears started to fall. He dropped to his knees in front of me, picking my hands up and giving them a squeeze.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. I'm so fucking sorry." He leaned forward, until his head rested against my chest. "I don't even know how to explain myself. I want it, but I don't want it. I like the boost, feeling like I'm ten feet tall and bullet proof, but I hate the crash after. I want the carefree feeling, but I don't want to hurt you. Or lose you. My god, Bella, I can't fucking lose you …"

His words melted away, replaced by gut-wrenching sobs. I ran my fingers down his neck and over his back. I didn't want to comfort him. I wanted to make him leave, to send him home, alone and broken, just like I'd felt the night before. I wanted to put space between us, to make him see that we couldn't carry on like this and come out in one piece.

As mad as I was, as betrayed as I felt, I couldn't let him go. Edward needed me. If anyone could help him, could convince him to right his wrongs and fix his mistakes, I was the one. In the two and a half years we'd been together, we'd become best friends, closer to each other than we were to anyone else in our lives.

I had to get Edward away from Jess and Jacob. I had to help him get to a place where his head was clear and on straight. I had to get him away from the drugs and into a place where he could find inspiration in healthy ways.

I had to help him.

Even if it was the last thing I ever did.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm a music junkie, and I became completely engrossed in the Blue October song "Hate Me" while writing this. It's such a raw depiction of just how nasty addiction can be.

xo


	6. Chapter 6

**-Chapter 6-**

 _Minneapolis, 2001_

Spring break changed a lot of things—our relationship being one of them.

Edward tried to right things, but his efforts were short lived. After a few weeks clean he went to a party, indulged in his drug of choice, and just like that, all his progress went out the window. He was honest about his choices this time, but that didn't make it hurt any less. What followed was our usual post-cocaine binge exchange: I told him I wanted to end our relationship, he had a breakdown and told me he couldn't live without me and couldn't get better without me, and in the end, we stayed together. I had myself convinced that I was the only one who could save him … even though I knew, somewhere deep down inside, that wasn't true. Edward had to save himself, a fact I wouldn't come to terms with until it was too late.

Our relationship changed a lot after what happened. There was a wedge driven between us, and that wedge went by the name Cocaine. We were still together, but we weren't _us_ anymore. Edward would use, and I would work my ass off to try and get him to stop. He'd spend the weekend high out of his mind and I'd spend the following week trying to lure him away from the road he was embarking down. I'd take him to galleries, hole up in his studio with him, drag him around with my friends … anything I could to keep him away from the people who had introduced him to the horrible things he was doing. Sometimes it worked, and I'd catch glimpses of the Edward I originally fell in love with. But it always ended the same, with him going off with Jessica and Jake while I worried like crazy.

Everyone in my life told me to leave him. Rose, Kate, my mom … all the people who loved me wanted me to get away from him and get a fresh start. Even though Edward never physically hurt me, his actions did, and that's what those around us could see. I knew I needed to end things, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I loved him—so much so that it hurt my heart.

I couldn't give up on someone I loved. Not without a fight.

The months passed, we became seniors, and miraculously managed to make it through our first semester. Winter break arrived, and Edward and I spent every minute together … which kept him away from the drugs. Or at least, he was kind enough to keep the drugs away from me. Christmas inched closer, as did my birthday, and Edward had something up his sleeve in honor of both occasions.

"Keep your eyes closed."

"You know how much I hate surprises, right?"

"Yeah, but it's your birthday. Surprises are mandatory. "

"You know how much I hate my birthday, right?"

Edward laughed behind me. "Sometimes I don't know about _you_." We came to a stop and I reached for the blindfold covering my eyes. "Oh no you don't." Edward pushed my hand back down next to my side. I sighed dramatically, but it was only for show. Inside, a swarm of butterflies was buzzing around my stomach, which was currently tied in knots. I listened carefully, hearing the unmistakable sound of a key slipping into a lock. A moment later, he guided me forward until I felt warmth all over my face.

"Surprise!" Edward slid the blindfold off and I blinked open my eyes. The wall in front of me was covered in floor to ceiling windows, which gave me a perfect view of the Mississippi River and the Stone Arch Bridge. Sunlight streamed in, reflecting off the snow-covered trees like a glittery blanket. I spun around, taking in the space around me. The floors were hardwood, appliances stainless steel, and one wall of the room was brick.

"What is this?"

"Our loft." Edward's eyes danced with excitement.

"How? I mean, what do you mean 'our loft'?"

"I leased it," he explained, moving about the space excitedly. "Eric's friend is the building owner. He gave me a good deal for the first year."

I looked around again, taking note of the loft area above the kitchen. The longer I looked at the space, the more I fell in love with it. Despite that fact warning bells were going off left and right inside my head.

"I love this space, but … Are you sure it's a good idea for us to live together?"

Hurt flashed over Edward's features. He crossed the room in three swift strikes, taking my hands in his and giving them a squeeze. "Of course it's a good idea. We've been together for almost three years. I'm sure we'll end up getting a place after graduation anyhow. Why not just do it a few months earlier?"

"I …" My words fell away, and I looked back at the amazing view behind me. I didn't want to hurt Edward, but I didn't want to put things too lightly either. Finding a balance in my words proved more difficult than I imagined. "It's been a rocky year. There's always something going on between us. I'm just not sure if living together is the best option, given everything we've been through."

Edward shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. My eyes roamed over him, and for the first time, I realized just how skinny he'd gotten. "I've put you through hell and back. I know this. And I'm sorry for that. So fucking sorry, Bella." He looked at me, eyes clear and sincerity blanketing his features. "I know I've said this before, and maybe my words mean nothing now, but … things will be different, Bella. I'll be different. I'll be with you, every night. I'll come home to you, Bella. Jake and Jessica won't be allowed over here. This'll be our own personal hideaway. A space where we can just be us. Edward and Bella. Not Bella and the drug addict."

I looked back out the window and then surveyed the loft once more. The place _was_ nice. And maybe if I were with Edward all the time he wouldn't have the urge to use as much. And if he could just curb the urge to use, then he could kick the habit completely.

That was my train of thought when I said my next words. "Let's do it."

Edward's face lit up. "Are you serious?" I nodded, and he grabbed my waist and picked me up, spinning me around and whooping. I laughed, despite the feelings of unease that had taken up space in my chest. He set me on the ground, dipping his head and pressing his warm lips against mine. My hands instinctively went to his hair, tangling in it as I tried to tug him closer to me. I lost myself in him, loving the way his hands felt as the tugged on my hair and pulled my head back. He dropped warm, wet kisses down my neck, stopping to nibble on the soft skin below my collarbone.

"When is this place ours?" My words came out sounding more like a breathy moan than a coherent thought.

"I told you, baby, I already signed the lease." He slid his fingers up under the hem of my shirt, stopping when they reached the edge of my bra. "It's ours."

There, in the middle of an empty loft in the light of day, Edward and I christened our new place.

Twice.

.

.

.

 _Minneapolis, 2002_

Living with Edward was … well, it was incredible, at least at the start.

We decked our place out with all kinds of weird pieces of art we found. I hung up my favorite pieces of Edward's work, too, despite his protest, and soon the bare-bones loft became our cozy little home.

We spent days on our own, him in the studio and me engrossed in my major project, but we always tried to be home at night for dinner, which we usually cooked together. We couldn't afford cable, so we relied on old VHS tapes and our music collections to keep us entertained. Best of all, Jake and Jessica were nowhere to be found. It seemed like Edward had finally found stable ground to plant himself on, and as the months went by, much of the weight lifted from my shoulders replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief.

Then April happened.

We were just a few short weeks away from the end of the semester and our graduation. Part of my major project involved holding an art show of some sort, somewhere in the city. I'd spent the first half of the semester in a state of panic, with no clue what I was going to do or show. My favorite professor Mrs. Cope flew in at the last minute and saved my ass. She respected me, as a student and a person, and just so happened to know the owner of a small, eccentric gallery in Northeast Minneapolis. Her friend offered to let me use the space for two nights. With one half of my problem solved, I just needed to figure out what artwork I'd show.

"Show mine," Edward said, mouth full of Cheerios.

I set the plate I was washing down in the sink and turned to face him. "What?"

"Show mine," he repeated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I mean, I'm not some big name local artist or anything, but I have enough pieces to display."

"You'd let me display them?"

"Hell yeah!" He stood and brought his dish to the sink. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather let display them."

"You realize you just saved my ass?"

He tucked some stray hairs behind my ear and leaned in, lips grazing the edge of my ear. "I plan on doing more to that ass when I get home."

My skin flushed, and a huge smile spread across my face. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." He pressed a kiss on my forehead and grabbed his keys. "We'll talk more tonight, iron out the details. I need to run, or I'll be late getting to the studio."

Edward's offer put me on cloud nine for the rest of the week. I planned with the gallery owner, got lots of advice from Mrs. Cope, and, before I knew it, the day of the show had arrived.

I was supposed to meet Edward at the gallery at eleven to set everything up, but low and behold, my beat-up old Nissan wouldn't start. I called him, hoping to catch a ride after he left the studio, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I knew he was busy, so I didn't think twice about it. I caught a bus and headed in the direction of the gallery. I tried to call Edward a few more times, just to let him know I probably wouldn't arrive until closer to noon, but his message continued to kick in right away.

It was 12:15 when I finally made it. I had hoped to find Edward waiting for me, but he was nowhere in sight.

"I'm so sorry I'm late." I rushed inside, placing my things against the wall where I'd been instructed.

"It's no problem at all." Laurent stuck his hand out and shook mine.

"Is Edward here?" I looked around the attractive man, but saw nothing other than an empty gallery.

"Nope. I haven't seen him. I thought he would be with you?"

I frowned, tugging my phone out of my pocket once more. My heart sped up and my palms started to sweat when Edward's phone went straight to voicemail again.

"He must have gotten held up. How much time do we have to finish this?"

Laurent looked at his watch. "I need to leave here by 1:30. Do you have any idea where he is?"

I shook my head and looked out the gallery window. My lungs felt like they'd been punched out and replaced with lead. "I'll keep trying him. I'm so sorry about this, Laurent. I thought he'd be here by now."

"Let me know when he arrives. I'll be in my office." When I met Laurent's gaze, I was surprised to see sympathy as opposed to anger.

I gripped my phone tightly as I paced back and forth across the gallery floor. The minute it started to vibrate, I flipped it open without even looking to see who it was.

"Where the hell are you?" I hissed.

"Um, leaving the biology building. Where the hell are you?" Disappointment flooded my veins when I heard Rose's voice on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, Ro. Edward was supposed to meet me almost two hours ago and he hasn't shown up yet."

"For the gallery thing?"

I nodded, and then remembered she couldn't see me. "Yep."

"Did you try calling him?"

"His phone goes straight to voicemail."

There was a long pause before my best friend finally spoke. "I swear Bella, if he fucks you over tonight—"

"He's not going to fuck me over," I said, needing to hear the words more for my own benefit than for Rose's. "He wouldn't do that."

"His track record says otherwise."

"Please, Rose, I can't do this right now."

"You're my best friend, Bell. I love you like a sister. And that means I'll give you tough love—even when you don't want it."

I looked down at my hands and bit my lip. The hardest part about bringing problems like this to my friends was being confronted with the truth. Because when it came to Edward, the truth always seemed to hurt.

"I love you like a sister, too."

"I'm sorry, Bell. You don't deserve this." Commotion filled the background and Rose spoke again a minute later. "I have to go. Kate and I will be there tonight, okay? We're still on for dinner and drinks after the showing, right?"

"Of course." We said our goodbyes and hung up just as Laurent emerged from his office.

"No sign of him yet?" I shook my head. "I'm sorry Bella, but I have a meeting I need to go to. I can be back here at five. It won't leave you with much time to set things up, but at least the showing can still go on."

"I appreciate that." I collected my things and left, completely forgetting my lack of transportation.

Two busses later I was back at the loft, expecting to find my boyfriend. Instead, an empty house greeted me.

"You better have a damn good excuse for this, Edward-fucking-Cullen," I muttered under my breath. I threw my things down on the kitchen counter and dialed Eric's number. When he had no idea where Edward was, I moved down the list, calling his aunt and uncle, the few friends I knew from the art program, and finally, when I could get no answers, calling Jessica.

"Yeah? Hello?" _So much for a friendly greeting._

"Hey, Jessica, it's Bella Swan. Edward's girlfriend."

"Yeah?" This time, her voice sounded icy and hardened.

"Is Edward with you?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea where he is?"

"No."

"You haven't seen him at all?" I prodded.

Jessica let out a combination groan and sigh. "No, Bella, I don't know where your fucking boyfriend is. You're his keeper, right? The one who thinks she needs to have tabs on him at all times."

"I don't need to have tabs on him at all times—"

"You should really tell him that then, because that's the picture he painted to me. And to Jake." Jessica sniffled twice. "Do you need anything else? I can think of at least ten things I'd rather do than be forced to converse with you."

"Can you have Edward call me if you see him? Please?"

"Whatever." I pulled the phone away from my ear and was about to hang up when I heard Jessica shout. "Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Edward has one love in his life. One thing that takes his breath away, lights up his world, and makes waking up every day worth it. One thing, Bella. And that one thing—well, you should know that it's not you."

The line went dead at the same time the last bit of fire in my heart burnt out.

.

.

.

"Bella?" The voice sounded close but somehow far away at the same time. I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow and attempting to pull the covers over my head. Except there were no covers, and I was on the floor of the loft, not in my bed.

"Bella? Sweetie, wake up." I blinked my eyes until Kate's face came into focus. Rose stood next to her, anger etched into every one of her pretty features.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Your showing, Bella. We went to your showing and Laurent said you never set anything up." I sat up straight at Kate's mention of my showing.

"Shit! We have to get over to the gallery!" I looked around, searched for my phone and flipped it open as soon as I found it. I had ten missed calls, but, to my dismay, none of them were from Edward.

"Where's Edward?" Rose finally spoke.

I dialed his number for what must have been the hundredth time that day, anger surging through me when it went straight to his voicemail—again.

"I don't know." My body shook as a sob tore through me. I hunched forward, arms clutching my stomach and tears pouring down my face. "What am I going to do? I can't graduate if I don't do this showing. I'm completely fucked."

"Mrs. Cope called your phone while you were asleep. She wants to meet with you tomorrow." Kate paused, looking down at her hands. "You should tell her everything, Bella. Maybe if she knew the situation, she could help fix things."

I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. Pain radiated from my forehead out to my temples and I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I gasped, trying to take a breath, but I just couldn't. Sweat beaded my forehead and icy chills ran through me.

"I think she's having a panic attack," Rose said, dropping to her knees in front of me. She slid her arms around me, holding me as I shook. "Breathe, Bell. Take nice, deep breaths. Focus on getting them in and out, nice and slowly."

I inhaled anger and exhaled pain. Tears streamed down my face and I clung to my best friend, like I was drowning, and she was the only thing that could save me.

"Everything's going to be okay, Bell. I promise you, everything will be okay."

It took two hours for me to calm down enough to pack my clothes in a bag and head over to the girls' apartment. I couldn't stay in the loft. I was angry, but above all else, I was devastated. Once again, Edward had torn my heart straight out of my chest, squeezed it until it barely beat anymore, tossed it around, and eventually discarded it.

Edward never turned his phone back on that night.

By the end of that week, I still hadn't heard from him, and when I stopped by to get some things, I could tell he hadn't been to the loft.

So, on Sunday morning, I packed the rest of my belongings and loaded them into my mom's Suburban, dropped my key off with Eric, and made the decision to let go of Edward Cullen.

I had no more pieces of my heart to give away. He'd taken them all, chopped them into a line, and snorted them up his nose along with the powder that had taken over his life.

I couldn't fix my boyfriend. I couldn't make him better. I couldn't save him.

But, I could save myself.

And that was what I needed to do.

.

.

.

A week and a half after the showing that never happened, Edward finally resurfaced. He called me as soon as he realized I was gone. I ignored every one of his attempts to make contact. For the first time in a long time, I had nothing left to say.

Our schedules were different, so I had an easy time avoiding him, and Rose made it more than clear that he was not welcome at the apartment, under any circumstances. I followed Kate's advice and told Mrs. Cope everything. She was understanding, just as my friend thought she would be, and helped me set up another showing with a different one of the senior art students. I managed to pull things together and everything went perfectly the second time around. I would graduate, on time and as planned, and that was enough of a silver lining to make the dark tunnel my life had become a bit more bearable.

I was leaving Mrs. Cope's office, a week before graduation, when Edward finally found me.

"Bella …" I looked up and saw him, leaning against the wall across from her office. My heart felt heavy as I took in his appearance. He was thin—so thin—and the bags beneath his eyes were back, darkened by days of not sleeping. I swallowed hard and heaved my bag up farther on my shoulder. My brain was screaming at me to run, but my feet were firmly planted in place.

"What do you want?"

"Can we go somewhere and talk? Please?" He took several cautious steps toward me, stopping when he saw the look on my face.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Look, I know disappearing like that was a shitty thing to do, I just—"

"A shitty thing to? It was a little more than a shitty thing!" I shouted. Several students at the end of the hall turned to face us. I grabbed the front of Edward's shirt and pulled him into an open office and out of sight. "Forgetting my birthday would be a shitty thing. Locking me out of the loft would be a shitty thing. Going on a weeklong bender, abandoning me for the art show, practically ruining my chances to graduate … that's a really fucked up and selfish thing. But, I'm not surprised. Fucked up and selfish are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to you."

"Bella, please—"

"Stop, Edward. Just stop." I took a deep breath and tipped my head back, closing my eyes and counting to three. I had to stay strong. He could apologize, but I wouldn't accept it. When I mustered up all the courage I could, I opened my eyes and said what I needed to. "Your apologies mean nothing to me anymore. I've heard the same song and dance from you one too many times. You need to get your shit together and I can't be around while you do that. You're toxic, Edward, and as much as I love you, I love myself more. I should have done this months ago. We're done."

"So that's it?" His eyes flash, and for a very moment I was reminded of the man who gave me the best kiss of my life one New Year's Eve night, three and a half years earlier. That memory vanished as quickly as it came, because that man was gone. He's been gone for a while. I was stupid to believe if I looked hard enough, I could bring him back.

"I don't even get a chance to explain?" He gave me the puppy dog look, the one that had always won me over in the past. I felt my resolve start to crumble, but I stood my ground and held on to what little strength I had left.

"You don't need to explain, Edward. It's the same shit on a different day. I've given you chance after chance after chance, and yet here we are again. So, I'm done. And nothing you say, no explanation you offer up, will change that."

I hoisted my bag up again and stepped around him, moving down the hall toward the doors. He grabbed my hand, turning me to face him. I jerked my fingers away, afraid that if I felt his touch any longer I'd give in to him.

"I can't do this alone, Bella. I need you."

I swallowed the urge to take him in my arms and comfort him, spitting out the words he needed to hear instead. "You haven't needed me since the first time you snorted that shit up your nose."

He didn't grab me when I turned away this time. The sob that escaped him echoed off the halls, and that was enough to unlock the floodgates I'd worked so hard to hold in. The tears blurred my vision and I swiped at them furiously.

As much as I loved him, a big piece of me hated Edward. But, I hated the cocaine more.

Twenty minutes later, I was in my car alone and officially free from Edward Cullen.


	7. Chapter 7

**-Chapter 7-**

 _Chicago, 2012_

"So, when did you move to the Windy City?"

I grab my martini and take a large sip, wincing as the vodka burns its way down my throat. I look at my cell phone for what must be the fifteenth time, noting that only five minutes have passed since my last glance. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I plaster a smile on my face and answer the blue-eyed man sitting across from me. "Six months ago."

"Wow, so you're really a newbie, huh? We've gotta get you out to Wrigley Field! You like the Cubs, right? I have season tickets and there are two games in May I could take you to …" The man—Garrett Denali, a 41-year-old divorced Virgo with two kids and a summer house on Lake Michigan—prattles on about baseball and Chicago style pizza. I try to listen, because that's the polite thing to do, even when you aren't interested in your date, but I just can't focus.

I'd been in Chicago for two months when Rose and Emmett suggested I give online dating a try. That's how they had met, so they both swear religiously by it. The love had died in my own marriage years before it finally ended, so moving on hadn't exactly been the hardest thing to start doing.

Garrett is my fifth date and just like the ones before, I'm bored stiff before our appetizer arrives.

I smile and nod my way through the next two hours, adhering to my two-drink maximum on a first date rule. Garrett offers to share a cab home and I politely decline, telling him I had a nice time and that I'll be in touch soon.

When I get back to my apartment, I peel my dress off and slip into my favorite pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. Edward's letters sit on the kitchen counter, begging to be read. I stare at the stack for five minutes before making my decision.

I tuck the letters under one arm, pour myself a glass of wine, and dig through my freezer until I find my Ben and Jerry's stash. When I'm sufficiently armed, I make my way to the living room and curl up in my favorite oversized armchair.

I've only read one letter so far, so I have no idea if there's any order to them. Tugging an afghan up over my legs, I tear the end off one and spread the paper out on my lap. I take a big swig of wine and crack open the ice cream, then dive right into Edward's words.

 _December 18, 2003_

 _Dear Bella,_

 _Today is your birthday. I've been up all night, thinking about you, wondering where you're at, who you're with and what you're doing. Are you at a bar, drinking cocktails and laughing at someone's cheesy joke? Are you eating your favorite cake, marble with the rich, strawberry buttercream frosting and chocolate sprinkles? Are you dancing with someone, kissing someone …? Are you loving someone else?_

 _My therapist wants me to write you these letters. She says it's an important part of my recovery process, even if I never send them. The first two times I was in this part of my recovery, I had shitty shrinks, and I'm pretty sure that's a big part of why I just stopped caring. Or maybe I never cared to start with. Almost everything in life stopped mattering when I lost you._

 _This is my third stint in rehab. They say the third time's a charm, right? Maybe this time I can really get my shit together and get on with my life._

 _That would require me to admit you're never coming back._

 _And right now, I can't admit that. It still hurts too much._

 _Love,_

 _Edward_

It's crazy how many details the mind can hold. I think back to that winter, remembering every minute of the night. While Edward was tucked away somewhere, writing letters to me as a part of his therapy program, I was out with Ben, celebrating our one-year anniversary. The night ended with him proposing to me. I remember the laughter and the tears, but also wishing it was Edward who had asked the big question.

I slide the letter back in the envelope and grab another one from the stack.

 _January 18, 2004_

 _Dear Bella,_

 _The first time I used coke was at Embry's 4th of July party. You were coming back to the cities that week and we had all these amazing plans, and then your mom went and gave the truck to Angela. I was so bummed, because I missed you. I missed your laugh, your touch, seeing you almost every day, and sharing my love of art with you. I spent the first half of the week moping around and then Eric told me I had to get out and do something. I was depressing him, he said. I tried to call Rose and Kate first, because I figured they probably knew about a party or two, but I didn't hear back from either of them. Jake and Jess seemed like the next logical ones to call, because I'd grown to know them both over the course of the semester, and they seemed like good people._

 _Jake invited me over to Embry's garage for beers and burgers. There were so many people there and I didn't know any of them. It only took 20 minutes before someone brought out the drugs. I was used to blazing up, we did that all the time, but I'd never done anything harder. This will probably sound stupid, but I felt like the odd one out. So many of the people there were using, and so when Jake offered it to me, I just went with it. I didn't want to be that guy who shows up at the party and then came off like a judgmental asshole._

 _What I didn't know what was that snorting my first line would be a lot like jumping out of an airplane without a functional parachute. I free fell into this world I wasn't prepared to handle and got wrapped up in this habit I couldn't break._

 _When you found my shit at Eric's, I was so humiliated. I'd been using on and off for a month by that point. Your anger, your disgust with me, it was enough of a wakeup call to get my head back in the right place._

 _You and I both know what happened. I fell from grace. My break from blow was short lived. I hurt myself, yes, but I destroyed you, and that is quite possibly the worst thing about this entire addiction._

 _I have to live with the knowledge that I single-handedly crushed your heart for the rest of my life._

 _That is worse than any addiction could ever be._

 _Love,_

 _Edward_

Some of his letters tell the story of his addiction, while others consist of a heartbreaking jumble of anger and angst.

 _March 15, 2004_

 _Dear Bella,_

 _I can't do this. It's too fucking much._

 _Every minute of every day, all I can think about is cocaine. The feel of it as it travels up my nose and hits my bloodstream. The high that follows, the rush, the elation, the feeling that I can fucking do anything and be anyone and … Fuck._

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

 _I'm leaving this place. Tomorrow. I just can't take it anymore. The walls are closing in on me and I'm drowning, and I can't fucking breathe. I have to get out._

 _Edward_

I read through dozens of letters, gaining a somewhat better understanding of what things were like for him—both during our relationship and the few years that followed. As I pour the last drops of wine into my glass, I stare down at the lone envelope left in my lap, and a twinge of pain slices through me. It's with shock and sadness that I realize I want to know more. I want to know everything that Edward did in treatment, out of it, and after it. I want to know who he is now, what led him to Chicago, and where he finds inspiration for the work he does.

I want to know who else he's loved and if anyone has broken his heart like he broke mine.

I want to know if there are any pieces of the boy I fell in love with in the man he is now.

I slip the final letter out of its envelope and spread the page open.

 _October 15, 2004_

 _Dear Bella,_

 _It's been exactly 883 days since I last saw you. 883 days since you chewed me out in the hallway of the art building and slammed the door—on me and on our relationship._

 _For 883 days you've been the first thought I have each morning and the last thing I see each night before bed. Even on the nights when I was so fucked up I couldn't think straight, your face was there, crystal clear and waiting when I closed my eyes._

 _I've spent 883 days beating myself up over what happened between us. I was such an asshole. You gave your all to us, put up with my shit, gave me second chance after second chance, and, yet, I couldn't stop fucking up. I had this beautiful, selfless, amazing woman who would do anything for me, and do you think that was enough? No, it wasn't._

 _That's what cocaine does to people. It seeps into their veins and paints this grandiose picture of life and all that it could be … if they just had one more fix. One more bump. One more line. It takes over every aspect of life until it's the only thing that matters. And that's what happened to me._

 _I loved you. God, Bella, did I love you. I still love you. The love was always there, it just got overshadowed. And while this is by no means an excuse for the things I did or the way I treated you, it's the only explanation I can give._

 _I hope that wherever you are right now, you're happy. I hope you know that not all men are like me and that there's somebody out there who will treat you like a queen; who will take care of you, support you, laugh with you during the good times, and cry with you during the bad._

 _I hope you know that what happened between us is the exception, not the rule._

 _Love,_

 _Edward_

I clutch the letter against my chest as fat, hot tears roll down my cheeks and drip off my chin.

I often wish I could go back and find Jacob Black and Jessica Stanley, and do something terrible to them. Get them fired from their jobs, destroy their homes, strip them of everything and every person they loved and that mattered to them. I've spent hours fantasizing about what it would be like to exact revenge on them in such a way they could feel as torn up and wrecked as I did when I lost Edward.

I read the letter three more times before tucking it back into the envelope and placing it on top of the stack of the ones I've already read. The last sentence sticks with me for the rest of the night. The words bounce around my mind as I hide the letters away and get ready for bed.

The last thought I have before sleep overtakes me is that Edward was wrong about one thing: we were never the exception.

We were always the rule. Written in the stars, meant to be, fated, the end all be all for one another.

We weren't supposed to be a one and done deal. Our relationship should have lasted longer … forever. What we had between us should have been impenetrable, resistant to shitty people and horrible substances, and every other thing the world had to throw at us.

Edward and I were most definitely the rule.

We always would be.


	8. Chapter 8

**-Chapter 8-**

 _Chicago, 2012_

Come Monday morning, Alice turns into a drill sergeant, barking out orders to Jasper and me. We're the only ones in the gallery, prepping for Edward's show, which opens in approximately eight hours.

"Bella, the bridge painting needs to be moved to that wall over there." Alice points and I follow her command. Small as she is, Alice can be very scary. Toss seven months of pregnancy into the mix and, well, the results are one hundred percent terrifying.

We spend the next two hours hanging pieces and adjusting lighting until Edward's collection fills the space. I take a lap through the gallery, surveying our hard work and admiring just how incredible of an artist my former lover has become.

"Bella?" Alice pulls me out of my trance and motions for me to follow her to the office, where she closes the door and takes a seat behind her desk. "Are you sure you're okay doing this? I can still call Irina and have her come in."

I shake my head as I drop into the chair across from my boss and good friend. "That's not necessary, Ali. I'm looking forward to this evening."

"You don't have to put on a whole sunshine-and-rainbows act for me, Bella. I would be more than understanding if you want to bail."

"It's not an act. I swear. I'm looking forward to seeing someone I know achieve success." Edward isn't my favorite person in the world, but I'd never wish failure on him. His letters had shined light on a few things, and though I'm still mad that he threw everything we had down the drain for his addiction, I'm also proud of the changes he's made and how far he's come.

"Okay, well, if you change your mind, you let me know and I'll get Irina in here. Now, the caterers will be here at four, people should start arriving by five …" I listen intently and jot down the information. Once Alice has given me all the pertinent details for the night, I bid her and Jasper farewell, and set off in the direction of my apartment.

I do a mental inventory of my closet as I walk, and decide to make a quick stop at Macy's. I want to look good for tonight. It's my first solo showing, the first time Alice and Jasper have entrusted me with the keys to their kingdom. I want to make a good impression, so I scan through the racks until I find the perfect dress. It's black, one shouldered, and form-fitting, falling just above my knees. I grab a pair of sparkly black heels to go with it. The ensemble is just the right mix of professional and elegant, and I know it will catch Edward's eye, too.

I shake my head as the silly thought crosses my mind. Catching Edward's eye shouldn't even be on my list of reasons to buy anything. Reading his letters gave me some insight into his life, and helped me understand his addiction a bit more, but it didn't change the way things went down between us. The simple act of putting pen to paper isn't enough to erase every wrongdoing or mend the scars.

I spend the early part of the afternoon cleaning my place, rearranging the furniture, and figuring out exactly which shade of lipstick I'm going to wear. By three, I'm dolled up and ready. The caterers arrive right at four, just like Alice said, and Edward arrives shortly after. He looks stunning in a pair of dark grey slacks and an off-white sweater. His hair is styled into a tousled look and his beard is trimmed down. I look at him—really look at him—for the first time since seeing him again. He's filled out so much, really grown into his 6'3" frame. His broad shoulders and hard chest are all man, but the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his lips are reminiscent of the boy I used to know.

He says nothing at first, simply walks through the gallery, taking everything in. His expression morphs from bewilderment to pride to full-on happiness, and even though we'll always have this broken history between us, I can't help but feel proud of how far he's come and all that he's accomplished.

"This is amazing," he says when he finally finds me in the office.

I smile and wring my hands together. "I'm glad it meets your expectations."

He laughs. "As soon as I discovered you'd be involved with the show, I knew it would meet my expectations."

A blush creeps up my cheeks and I bite the inside my lip to keep from smiling. "How many showings have you done up to this?"

"None. This is my first one."

I frown. "Your first one? I thought you were just saying that the other day." His expression falls and he looks away, eyes roaming over the walls of Alice's office. I immediately feel bad for even bringing the topic up. "You know, forget I even asked." I look at my watch, taking note of the time. "It's almost time. Let's go show the art world what you're made of, yeah?"

He shoves his hands in his pockets and grins again. "Let's go."

The showing goes off without a hitch. A steady stream of people come and go from the gallery, some more prominent in the art world than others. I introduce Edward to the ones I know, including an art critic for the Chicago Tribune. He's the perfect gentleman, talking about his art, answering their questions, and exuding an air of confidence I've never seen from him before. By the time the night ends, I'm exhausted but filled with a rush of happiness.

"That was … perfect. Just perfect." Edward beams. The caterers are finishing cleaning and I'm compiling a list of the buyers for Edward's work.

"You did wonderful," I tell him. "People loved you as much as they loved the art. That's a good thing in this world, believe me."

"You think so?"

"I know it." I leave the buyer information on Alice's desk and grab my purse. Once I've made sure the caterers are gone and the gallery looks as it did before the showing started, Edward and I head out into the night.

"Can I walk you home?" Edward asks. I bite my lip and look down the street. It's late, and though I'm used to making the five-block trip on my own, I can't say I'll mind the company.

This is what I'm telling myself when I agree a minute later. "Sure."

We set off in the direction of my apartment and a comfortable silence blankets us. We're about a block away when he finally speaks again. "It's nice to see we still make a good team after all these years."

I chuckle. "That we do—when you show up, at least."

He hangs his head and slips his hands in his pockets. "I deserve that."

"Yeah, you kind of do." We walk the rest of the way in silence. When we arrive at my building I stop and turn to face him. "Edw—

"Did you read any of my letters?" The words fall from his lips quickly. I take my keys out of my purse and spin them around my index finger.

"Yes."

"Did they mean anything? Be honest, Bella, because if they didn't, I want to know. I _need_ to know."

I try to think of something spectacular to say, but my mind comes up blank. "Of course they did."

He looks up at me and I catch the spark of hope that flashes behind his eyes. "Can we get coffee tomorrow? I know I've asked already, and I know you've said no, but the letters … they're just the tip of the iceberg, Bella. I have so much more I want to say, so many things I want to tell you."

I look down at my keys and every reason I should say no flashes behind my eyes. I've seen his song and dance before. I know how this could go. But then I remind myself that this Edward is different. He's been through hell and back on his own, and if his letters are any indication, he seems to have come out on top.

"I'll meet you for coffee," I finally say.

"That's great, Bella. Thank you. Thank you so much." We iron out the details and say goodnight.

I try not to notice the little flip my heart does as I watch him start to walk away.


	9. Chapter 9

**-Chapter 9-**

 _Chicago, 2012_

EPOV

I pace back and forth across my living room, until I'm sure if I look down I'll see a path worn in the carpet. I know I should find something to do, but I can't think about anything but Bella and our pending meeting.

"Meeting? Seriously?" I mumble to myself. The word sounds so formal. I can think of a million other ways to describe what we have planned for the afternoon, but each of them seems wrong. We aren't going on a date, it's not necessarily a social call, and referring to it as a "coffee thing" seems much too impersonal. So, meeting it is, at least in my mind.

I retreat to my bedroom and slide open my closet door. I've never been good at being fashionable. Even now, I stand here clueless. I eye a green sweater, then a blue one, and then a black one, before finally deciding to go with a maroon one. I pair it with dark wash jeans and high-top Chucks, and it's the most put together I've felt all morning.

Self-imposed pressure weighs heavy on my shoulders. I keep telling myself this isn't a big deal. Bella agreed to meet me and hear what I have to say, not to run off into the sunset and get hitched. For all I know she could get up in the middle of things, throw her coffee in my face, and tell me she never wants to hear from me again. I hope that doesn't happen, but I know I need to be emotionally prepared for all possible scenarios.

Truth be told, I haven't loved anyone but her for the past 14 years. I loved her from the moment I first laid eyes on her at that stupid fraternity party on New Year's Eve. I loved her even after she ended things between us. And, though she's been gone for 10 years, and I've tried my hand at other relationships, I've never stopped loving her.

This isn't something I'll tell her today, but I hope in time, I can let her know. I hope she sees that I've changed and notices the ways in which I'm different.

I hope she gives me a chance to apologize to her for tossing our relationship into a raging sea and never bothering to check to make sure we both had life vests on first.

I hope she knows that I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally. Cocaine makes a person do all sorts of ugly things, and though I'm not looking to make excuses, I do want her to understand that the Edward I had become was that way because of the effect the cocaine had on me—not because I wanted to be a dick to her.

I have lots of hopes for her, but just one hope for myself:

I sincerely hope I don't fuck this up.

.

.

.

I find Bella exactly where she said she'd be, and twenty minutes early to boot. We say our greetings, and she leads me inside, where I glance at the menu board to make sure they have everything to craft her favorite espresso drink.

"Cappuccino with extra foam, two shots of espresso, and a shot of sugar free vanilla." The words come out as a statement rather than a question. Bella seems taken aback, but she quickly gets control of her expression.

"Ten years later and you can still order for me," she mumbles. I laugh and step up to the counter, placing our order and paying for both drinks. Bella tries to protest, but I insist on taking care of the bill.

"I've got these," I tell her. "I'm the one who asked you to join me for coffee, after all. It's only right for me to pick up the tab." She relents easier than I expect, which is a relief. The last thing I want is a showdown over a three-dollar cup of coffee.

We're at her favorite spot in the city, a place called Java Nation. The space is small and quaint, the decor consists of funky pieces by local artists, and I immediately see the appeal. Bella fits in here. I can picture her tucked away at a table, ear buds in place, book in hand, enjoying the free time of a Saturday morning.

Once we get our drinks I follow her to the back corner of the shop, where she settles into one of two large, cushy armchairs. Five feet from us a fireplace roars, and even though it's only late October, the heat feels nice.

"This place is great. I've never been here before," I comment as I look around. I try to make sure my eyes don't stay fixed on Bella for too long of a time. I don't want to weird her out any more than my presence in her city already does.

"I love it. I stumbled across it a few weeks after I moved here, and I haven't stopped coming since." Her eyes light up as she speaks, and I can't help but smile. Her passion and enthusiasm for the small things in life always has been one of the most attractive things about her. I'm happy to see she hasn't lost those qualities.

"You always were good at finding places like this."

"Some things never change I guess." She cups her mug with her hands and takes a whiff of the steam coming off the liquid.

"How much time do you have?" I ask.

"My afternoon is free. I have dinner plans at six." She doesn't offer up any details and I don't pry. As much as I would love to be privy to all parts of her life, I know that's not something I'll earn overnight. Building up that kind of trust will take months, and that's assuming she'll ever fully allow me back in.

For a moment, I can't help but wonder what things between us would look like if we'd never broken up in the first place; if I'd never fallen in love with blow, and lost the most important person in my world. Would we still be in Minneapolis, or would we have spread our wings and gone somewhere else? Would we have kids? Neither of us was really the child-rearing kind, but things like that can change with time. Would we live an apartment in a big city or would we have a place in the suburbs? Would we travel together, eat good food and drink lots of wine, and socialize with all the people we'd met along the way?

"Edward?" I shake my head, clearing my mind and bringing me back to the here and the now. Bella wears a frown on her face and her eyes are full of concern. "Where'd you go just now?"

"Just thinking about something." I take a sip of coffee and clear my throat. "So, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I know you don't even have to give me the time of day, but I appreciate that you're willing to."

"Yeah, well, I figured the only way to get you to stop asking was to say yes." Her words make me wince. She notices right away, and throws her hands up in the air. "I was just kidding. Sorry, I guess it's probably too early for humor, huh?"

"Maybe just a bit too early." I sip my coffee once more, searching for caffeinated liquid courage. "I appreciate you meeting me like this. I know the letters weren't enough to earn me any sort of forgiveness on your end, so the fact that you're sitting here across from me right now means a lot."

Bella closes her eyes and brings the mug to her lips, taking a long swig. When she opens them again, they're a mixed bag of emotions. "What brought you to Chicago?"

"I needed a change," I answer honestly. "I had a lot of … troubles after you and I ended."

"What kind of troubles?"

I take a deep breath and try to calm my nerves. Writing letters about this time of my life was easy, especially since I thought the chances of Bella ever reading them were slim to none. Sitting here, face-to-face, across the table from the woman I once loved— _still_ loved —and hashing out all the ugly details of my fall from grace is intimidating as hell. "When you ended things between us, I convinced myself it was just temporary. I told myself all you needed was a bit of time and space before you realized what a mistake you'd made and came back. That train of thinking, those thoughts, it was the cocaine talking. Anything's possible when you're high.

"When graduation rolled around, and I hadn't heard from you, I started to freak out. Another week passed, and I went looking for you. I tried the apartment, but you weren't there, and the girls were anything but nice to me. I drove all the way down to your mom's place, thinking maybe you decided to spend the summer at home to clear your head. She was the one who told me you were gone—truly gone, moved away with no plans to return to the cities. And she wouldn't tell me where you were."

"I asked her not to," Bella says softly. "I needed as clean of a break from you as I could get. It seems so dramatic now, but I changed my number, nuked my email addresses … got rid of any paper trail I might have left."

I nod, remembering how hard I'd searched for her, and how mad I was every time I came up empty-handed. "I tried everything and when I realized that you were gone, I lost it." I close my eyes and swallow back the tears that threaten to surface any time I open-up about my low points. "When I was waiting for you outside of Mrs. Cope's office that day, it wasn't just so I could apologize, though that was my primary reason. Earlier that day I found out that a gallery in Rome wanted to showcase some of my pieces during a two-week period in July. Mr. Varner had been in contact with the owner of the place, and she was impressed with my work. I was so excited, and I couldn't wait to share my news with you. I had this whole scenario concocted in my mind, where I'd apologize, you'd forgive me, I'd tell you about Italy, and we'd take off on this romantic getaway after we graduated.

"When the realization that you were gone sank in—when I was forced to come to terms with the fact that I would never see you again—I got really fucked up, went down to the studio I was working out of, and I destroyed every single piece of art I'd finished for Italy. I slashed canvases, broke glass pieces, and then I piled everything up outside the studio and torched it. I was so far gone, so amped up on coke and whiskey and some other shit Jake had given me, that I didn't care who found me."

"Oh, Edward …" Bella covers her mouth with one hand and tears brim her eyes.

"Mr. Varner ended up finding me. I'd completely forgotten that I was supposed to meet him at the studio to show him everything in the collection. The Italy showcase was cancelled, obviously, and then word started getting around about how off the hinges I was. My missing your showing was the spark that started it, and the stunt I pulled at the studio just fanned the flame. Nobody would work with me. Nobody wanted my work. I'd barely been out of school for a month and I'd completely fucked myself over, in so many ways.

"I went into rehab for the first time at the end of that summer," I continue. The more I say, the lighter the weight on my shoulders feels. Even if Bella tells me to go to hell when all is said and done, the simple act of sharing everything with her is therapeutic for me. "Eric was the one who really urged me to go. He bore witness to my downward spiral, and was always there to pick my ass up off the floor when shit got too tough. I checked myself in voluntarily and checked right back out three months later. I couldn't do it. Your birthday was rolling around and all that did was dredge up a bunch of memories that I wasn't prepared to deal with. So, I checked out and instead of going back to Eric's, I went to stay with Jake."

I polish off my coffee and stare down at the backs of my hands. Bella looks like she wants to say something, so I stay silent for a moment. The look she gives me is all the encouragement I need to continue. "I stayed with Jake for a few months, got a shitty job at a record shop, and spent all my extra cash on drugs. I didn't paint, didn't sculpt … I wanted nothing to do with art. Every time I picked up a paintbrush, the first thing I thought of was you, and even though you were once my biggest inspiration in this world, that all changed when we ended. I just wanted to erase everything that made me think of you, and that meant I couldn't create art anymore."

"Oh my god, Edward. You shouldn't have given your art up for anything, least of all me."

"I'm not telling you this to guilt trip you, Bella, so please don't feel bad. I just need you to hear all of this, so you have a better understanding of how I got here," I say, fidgeting with the sleeve of my sweater. "When it became clear that my habit was getting me nowhere, I decided to give rehab a try again. It was a new year and I thought that meant it was the perfect time to work on becoming a new me. Just like the time before it was short lived, and I left after only a few months.

"I saw Kate around town a few times after my second attempt to get sober. She was never willing to tell me what had happened to you, but each time I saw her it seemed like her heart thawed a bit towards me. She was dating some guy named Tyler, whose dad was a counselor at an in-patient treatment program in Wisconsin. I have no idea what inspired Kate to try to help me at all. I don't even know if you two were in touch at that point—"

"We had a falling out," Bella interrupts. She swipes her thumbs under her eyes, catching a few stray tears that have fallen. "I had no idea she'd ever even spoke to you."

I smile sadly. "She introduced me to Tyler's dad, and after meeting with him one-on-one a few times, I agreed to check in again, this time at the facility in Wisconsin." I fumble with my napkin and look out the window. "That was the last time I ever checked in to a rehab place. I stayed there for 18 months. I hated it at first, and then getting clean grew on me. I learned more about myself and about life in the short time I was there, than I had in my 23 years combined. Once I got to a place where I was ready to be clean, where I wanted to help myself, things became so different."

When I look back at Bella she has a smile on her face. I can't help but mirror hers with one of my own. "The first thing I did when I got out of treatment was made sure Jake and Jessica and all my old friends knew I wasn't like that anymore. I made it abundantly clear that there was no place for them, or for our old habits in my new life. Eric let me stay with him until I got back on my feet. But I still struggled with my art. I just couldn't create anything I liked. Nothing met my own expectations, and eventually it was like my inspiration well ran dry. So, I decided a change of scenery was in order, and I headed here to Chicago."

"You've been here for a while then?"

I nod. "I've lived here for almost four years."

"Wow." Bella strums her fingers on the rim of her mug and shakes her head. "Rose lives here with her husband. That's why I came here after leaving Nashville. I never would have guessed you were here though. You always said you'd be in Minnesota forever."

"Well, with all due respect to the North Country, I'm glad that changed," I chuckle. "It's a whole different ball game here, and I love it."

"So, what inspired you to create a collection of nothing but reminders of home and the past then? And why the hell are you using a different name for your work?"

I shrug. "The old Edward died years ago. I didn't want to come back on the scene and risk having someone from my past make a big deal out of the stupid shit I'd done. So, I grabbed a new name and ran with it. I like to think of it as the same as an author who writes under a penname. And, as for the collection …" My words trail off as I try to think of the right way to explain myself. "My heart has always belonged to you, Bella. And even if you didn't want it, even if you still don't, at least I can feel somewhat connected to you through the art I create. Every piece in this collection has some significance to us. Call it my tribute to the most incredible person to ever walk into my life."

Silence surrounds us as Bella processes everything I've told her. And even if my honesty doesn't matter—even if she takes my words, harbors them somewhere inside herself, and chooses to continue to live her life without me in it—at least I've had a chance to explain.

I know that's more of a chance than many others are ever given.

I appreciate how truly lucky of a man I am.

 **A/N:** It's impossible to understand exactly what kind of a hold a substance can have on a person until you've lived it, either as an addict or as a loved one forced to watch your parent, spouse, significant other, etc. grapple with an addiction.

This is the only EPOV I wrote for this. It felt important for this portion to be told from his voice.

xo


	10. Chapter 10

**-Chapter 10-**

 _Chicago, 2012_

"I met Edward for coffee last week." Rose drops her fork and I lean over the table to grab her water before she has a chance to repeat her last performance. "You know, you really need to get your reflexes figured out."

"You did _what_?" There's an equal amount of irritation and astonishment in her voice. Thankfully, I'd prepared myself for her reaction before even leaving for our lunch date.

"I met Edward for coffee. He wanted a chance to explain some things to me, and I wanted a chance to pick his brain about life after Bella." I shrug. "It was nothing, Rose. It meant nothing."

"I've been your best friend for years, Swan. I know when you're lying and right now, it's a good thing you're not Pinocchio, because your nose would have poked my eye out already."

I roll my eyes and dig into my pasta. "It really wasn't a big deal. We drank coffee, he told me about his life over the last ten years, and then we went our separate ways."

"What was there to tell you about? The accommodations at various rehab facilities in the Midwest?" Rose is a fiercely loyal friend—and a fierce bitch when she feels like one of her friends might need protecting.

"Ha ha, very funny. We talked about his time in rehab, yes, but we spent more time discussing his art and why he's in Chicago."

Rose stares at me for a beat, and then goes back to her salad. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Bella. It's not like this is some new guy you met on Match that you're infatuated with. This is the one man who has the power to completely wreck you, and he's already done that once."

"I'm well-aware of that sweetie, and please don't blow this out of proportion. We had coffee, we caught up a little, and that was that." I stab a piece of cavatappi with my fork. I can feel my friend's stare, but I refuse to look at her. I have no interest in receiving a lecture today, regardless of how well intentioned it may be.

Rose pushes her plate away and takes her water back. When I look up at her, she has her fingers steepled beneath her chin and her eyes have softened. "I would never want to trade in my best friend role. Ever. But it's so hard sometimes. Like when I had to sit on the sidelines and watch you get your heart broken repeatedly by the same guy." She slides one hand across the table and covers mine with it. "We're adults now, and I know this. We were technically adults back then, although sometimes I wonder if we really grasped that concept. In any case, you can make your own choices and you'll be the one to deal with the consequences of those choices. Just … please don't let any sweet nothings he might whisper drown out everything that he did before. He treated you awfully, Bell, and I know it's in the past. I know everyone always preaches about the importance of forgiveness, but please don't forget what happened."

I squeeze Rose's hand and smile. "I love you for sitting on the sidelines. I had to learn those lessons for myself, but don't you ever for one second think I didn't appreciate the support I got from you and Kate. And as far as forgetting goes, I could never forget all the bad things that happened. But if I'm being honest, after talking to Edward and reading some letters he wrote to me during rehab, it makes the blow from all the bad things just a little bit less intense."

Our mushy moment ends, and we get back to our lunch. Just when I think we're about finished, Rose orders a dessert and settles down further in her chair. I raise an eyebrow and she smiles mischievously. "All right, Swan, let's hear the details about this chat. I'm sure you're dying to spill the beans."

This is precisely why I love my best friend.

.

.

.

I spend the next hour telling Rose all about Edward's letters and the things he shared with me during our chat over coffee. She's just as shocked as I was to learn that Kate had something to do with his recovery. I make myself a promise then, that if I ever see my old friend again, I'll be nothing less than gracious for what she did to help him.

We wrap up lunch, so Rose can get back to work. I have the day off and plenty of errands to run, but I find my feet carrying me in the opposite direction than I need to go. Before I know it, I'm standing in front of the building that houses Edward's studio. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I creak the door open and step inside anyhow.

I wander through the halls until I find the space with his name next to it. The heavy door is already ajar, and I can tell Edward is in here. I poke my head in and look around. Loud music fills the air and all the windows on the far side of the room are open, letting the fall breeze waft around the space. Edward has a large canvas stretched over one of the walls, and that's what he's working on. I slide the door open enough to step inside and then close it most of the way again. I'm a few feet away from him when Edward turns around.

"Jesus Christ—Bella! Wow, you're here!" He drops his palette on an overturned milk crate and turns down the music. His hands and the front of his jeans are streaked with paint. He has the top four buttons open on his shirt and part of his chest peeks out. I used to think there was no way Edward could get any more attractive than he already was, but age has done wonders for him.

"I'm sorry I startled you. I was in the area and thought I'd stop by…" my words trail off and I look down at my hands. Edward grabs a towel and wipes his fingers, then strides over to the mini fridge across the room. He comes back with two Cokes and hands me one.

"It's okay. It's a nice surprise." He takes a pull from his soda and I can't take my eyes off him. My eyes follow the sharp lines of his jaw to his neck where his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. I bring my own bottle to my lips just as his eyes find mine. A smirk spreads across his face and I feel my cheeks warm.

"What are you working on?" I ask, hoping to hide my embarrassment over being caught ogling him.

"It's a watercolor rendition of The Bean," he explains. "There's a new PR film opening in Lincoln Park and they commissioned me to paint it. I'm not sure I like how it's coming together so far, however."

"I love it," I tell him with sincerity. I step closer to the canvas and point to an area with many bright colors. "I love the excitement you've created in this area, just by using the colors you did. I know you aren't finished yet, but looking at this the way it is now reminds me of the picture-perfect summer day in Chicago. Blue skies, sunlight, food vendors, and tour bus ticket sellers running all over, while tourists try to navigate their way around and natives curse them under their breath. It's all here, in just this one part of the canvas."

He looks at the canvas again and shakes his head. "I can't see it. But, I'll take your word for it." He motions to a small table he has set up in the corner of the room. "I don't have any real furniture in here, because it's always just me, but you're welcome to camp out there for a bit if you'd like."

I take another sip of Coke and look around the room. There's an open space against the wall, just below one of the windows, with a perfect view of the canvas. "Mind if I sit over there?" I point and Edward shrugs in response. I drop my purse to the floor and sink down, sitting crisscross-applesauce style on the concrete floor.

Edward picks his palette up once more and starts working on the same section of the canvas I just referenced. "So, were you really in the neighborhood, or is there a purpose to your visit? I'm not complaining either way, I just wanted to ask."

I look down at my bottle and blurt out the first words that come to mind. "I'm divorced." The paintbrush stops moving and Edward slowly turns around to face me.

"Okay?" The confusion in his tone matches the expression on his face, so I continue quickly.

"You shared your last ten years with me over coffee, so I thought it would be nice to share my last ten with you as well."

A small smile plays on his lips and he turns back to the painting, brush strokes resuming. "I'm all ears."

"When you didn't show up for my major project showing, I wasn't just angry, I was mortified. It was so embarrassing for me. I always had my shit together, my ducks lined up perfectly in a row, and to have all that ruined because of poor decisions on your behalf, well, it was awful. When I went to Mrs. Cope, I was honest about everything—including your addiction." Edward's hand stops moving and his shoulders bristle. "I'm lucky that she had as much respect for me as she did, because I think that's the only reason she gave me a second chance. Well, that and because she knew I had no control over the things you chose to do.

"I had a meeting with Mrs. Cope the morning I saw you outside of her office. There was an internship opportunity at a gallery in Nashville, and she got me an interview with the gallery owner. I didn't have to think twice about the opportunity. I knew if they took me, I'd leave in a heartbeat given everything that had just happened between us." I close my eyes and think back to the day that things ended between us. "I was so mad at you, but I felt more hurt than anything. When I saw you in the hallway, part of me wanted to fling myself into your arms and the other part wanted to punch you. I probably should have at least heard you out, since I hadn't taken any of your calls up to that point, but I just couldn't. I needed to get away from you, so I could start fresh. I knew if I gave you any time, even just a few minutes, I'd lose all the momentum I'd built up and fall right back into the roller coaster we were on. So, I shut down your attempts to apologize and I got away from you as quickly as I could.

"I had the interview for the internship and the gallery owner offered it to me right there on the phone. We graduated, I filled my Nissan with as much as I could fit inside of it, and then I left for Nashville and told myself I'd never look back."

"Nashville?" Edward stops painting and turns around, and I'm surprised when he laughs. "I'm sorry, I'm not making light of things, I just can't see you in the south. You're not exactly the spurs and ten-gallon hat kind of gal."

I can't help but laugh myself. "No, no I'm not. But the longer I was there, the more I fell in love with the city—especially the music scene. I used to frequent a few clubs down on Broadway, and that's where I met Ben. He played guitar in a local band at night, was an accountant by day, and we hit it off right away. He was the opposite of you, in all these ways. He was blonde hair and brown eyes, only a few inches taller than me, and about as straight laced as they come. I threw myself head first into a relationship with him hoping that he could chase away your memory and stitch up the gaping scar you'd left on my heart. It didn't quite work that way, however."

Edward continues painting, but I can tell he's hanging on every word I say "Things seemed to go well for me in Tennessee. Ben and I spent almost all our spare time together and my internship turned into a full-time position at the gallery. A year after we started dating, Ben proposed, and I said yes. We got married six months later and all was right in the world. Ben was a great man, don't get me wrong, he gave me everything and loved me with his all, but I could never stop comparing him to you. You were constantly there, in the back of my mind, and no matter how many wonderful things Ben did for me, he just wasn't you, Edward."

He stops painting and sets his palette down once more. When he turns to face me, my heart jumps in my throat. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are damp with fresh tears.

"Ben and I stayed together," I continue. "We got a house in Brentwood and adopted a dog from a rescue group. We tried to be the couple everyone envied, but the longer things went on, the more unhinged they became. Eventually, we started fighting about everything, from the color of the walls in our dining room to whether we could afford a trip up to Minneapolis to see my mom for Christmas or not. Ben was a fixer, and he would always try to mend things between us, but I'd just push him away. We kept this back and forth, push-pull stuff up for eight years and then he finally asked for a divorce."

"God, Bella, I'm so sorry."

I shrug. "Honestly, it was for the best. I should never have agreed to marry him in the first place, because I was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

He nods and bites down on his lip. "So, you came here after the divorce was final?"

"I did," I tell him. "Rose came to Chicago a few years after graduation, to get her MBA. She met her husband and they settled down here. I wanted to go someplace where I knew at least one person, and she was always talking about how amazing the city is. So, I lined up a job at Alice and Jasper's gallery, got an apartment, and came hauling back to the Midwest. That was six months ago."

His eyes widen. "Only six months? I thought you'd been here longer than me for sure."

I shake my head. "Nope. I'm the newbie of this duo."

Edward grabs his brush and squirts some fresh paint onto his palette. "Thank you for sharing all of that with me. You know you didn't have to, right? I hope I didn't give you the impression that I was expecting an explanation of some sort."

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to." I push myself up off the floor and stretch my arms high above my head. "If we're going to be friends again, then I think it's important that we put all of this stuff out in the open. No secrets, you know?"

Edward's lips turn up in a smirk. "Friends, huh? When did you decide this?"

"Sometime between last week and today."

"And you're okay with that?" I can tell he's trying to keep his smirk from morphing into a full-scale grin. The enthusiasm coupled with shyness is cute. "Being friends?"

I nod. "I'm fine with it. I mean, we're in the same city now, and even though it's a big city we both run in the art circle. We're bound to cross paths occasionally, and I'd much rather be on good terms when that happens. Wouldn't you?"

The full-scale grin comes out then, along with a deep laugh. "Absolutely. I'd much rather you smile and say hello than spend your free time locked away with Rose, planning how you're going to kill me."

"Oh, Rose might still come up with ways to inflict bodily harm. I promise I'll encourage her to go easy on you though."

We spend the rest of the afternoon in his studio, him painting away and me watching. Sometimes we talk about random things, but mostly the air is silent.

It's comfortable.

It's friendly.

And it's a lot like old times.


	11. Chapter 11

**-Chapter 11-**

 _Chicago, January 2013_

"How do I even get on this thing?"

"It's not difficult at all. You just stand, and when you feel the seat hit the back of your legs, sit."

I watch the skiers in front of us get on the lift effortlessly. The longer I spend staring at the contraption, the tighter my chest feels.

"I can't do this. What if I fall off?"

Edward adjusts the strap on his ski goggles and tips his head back, laughing. "You aren't going to fall off the lift. Trust me. Look." He points his ski pole at a set of chairs halfway up the hill. "That kid can't be more than three and she got on, and hasn't fallen off yet."

Rose and Emmett ski up next to us, coming to a stop and spraying snow all over both Edward and me. "Please tell me you aren't afraid of the ski lift, Bella?"

I roll my eyes and scrunch my nose up in disgust. "Excuse me for not having parents who had me out on the slopes every weekend."

"It wasn't every weekend. Just a couple times a year. And I'm pretty sure you went with me on more than one occasion." Rose pushes her own goggles up on her forehead and gives me a sassy stare.

"I did go with you. And I spent the whole day on the bunny hill with Kate. And the bunny hill had a rope pull, which didn't take me 50 feet in the air."

"Ladies, c'mon. Edward and I would like to get at least a few more runs in before the snow melts." Emmett's eyes dance mischievously. I glance helplessly between the three of them. I can't be the only one who won't go up the hill. I'd never live that down. So, I ski up next to Edward and use my pole to point to the lift.

"Let's go, Cullen," I mutter. His smile touches his eyes and we take off in a single file line, with Emmett leading and me lagging in the back. I watch others get on the lift, and when it comes time for Edward and me to board, I do exactly as he instructed earlier. I grip the side of the seat with one hand while holding both of my poles in the other. Edward talks the whole way up about frivolous topics like the weather and what's new on Netflix, which eases my nerves. Shortly before we reach the top, he walks me through how to get off and I manage to do so without breaking anything or falling on my ass.

My trip down the hill is not nearly as graceful however, and after two falls and a runaway ski, I decide to hole up in the chalet for the rest of the afternoon. I'm wrapped up a romance book that's as steamy as my hot chocolate when Edward flops into the seat across from me.

"So, Rosalie doesn't hate me anymore," he comments as he pulls off his gloves and tosses his goggles on the table.

"Is that so?"

He slides my glass of cocoa across the table and takes a sip. I slap his fingers away from the cardboard and take the cup back, putting it safely outside of his reach. "It is."

"And how do you know this?" I play along, even though I already know that Rose has started to come around. As Edward and I worked on rebuilding our friendship, I kept Rose in the loop. About a month and a half into things, I started planning activities for the four of us to do together. Rose was plenty cheeky at first, but as time went on, she started to warm up to Edward. The difference in him was crystal clear, and the fact that he and I were only friends—with no plans on becoming more—eased some of her apprehension.

" _She_ invited _me_ to her and Emmett's Super Bowl party." Edward puffs his chest out and laughs.

"You know that means you have to bring something to share, right?"

"Like a food dish?"

"No, like a package of toilet paper. Of course I'm talking about a food dish, doofus!" I reach across the table and swat Edward on the side of the head. He catches my wrist in his hand and what follows is an awkward arm wrestling match, which I very gracefully lose.

"You're all in luck then, because I make some of the meanest jerk chicken on this planet."

I arch a brow and cock my head to the side. "Is that so? Because if I recall correctly, there was once a time when you could have burned water if you even tried to cook."

Edward rolls his eyes. "That was before I became a bachelor who was forced to fend for himself."

"Well, this should be an interesting Super Bowl spread, to say the least."

"Ha ha ha, laugh it up all you want. In three weeks you're going to be eating your words—right after you eat every bit of my food you stack on your plate."

"Care to wager something on that?"

He taps his chin thoughtfully and then his eyes light up. "Dunkin Donuts breakfast for a week."

I reach across the table and shake his hand. "You've got yourself a deal."

As it turns out, Edward was right—his jerk chicken was the most amazing thing at the party. So amazing that I ate six skewers of it.

And then spent the next seven days getting on a first name basis with the staff at my corner Dunkin.

.

.

.

 _Chicago, May 2013_

"So, I got _Safe Haven_ , _Dark Shadows_ , _Beautiful Creatures_ , and _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_." Edward spreads the DVD cases out on Alice's coffee table next to the bag of Chinese takeout he was kind enough to bring over. It's my first time babysitting Maggie and as soon as she starts crying, I start freaking the fuck out. Alice and Jasper are out on a double date with Rose and Emmett, so it's Edward's number I dial when I need reinforcement.

"Better go with _Safe_ _Haven_." My response is met with an eye roll of epic proportions. "There's a five-month-old baby in the next room over, Cullen. We can't exactly watch a horror flick."

"You always had a weak stomach," he remarks. I get the Chinese plated while he busies himself with the DVD player.

"This might be the best chow mein I've ever eaten." A few pieces of rice fall from my full mouth and I plop them back onto the plate. Edward doesn't even notice. _Reason number 2343264343 being just friends is so much better than being someone's girlfriend: you can act like one the guys and not get looked down on for it._

"This was pretty much the only place I ate at for the first three months I lived here. I had no cooking skills back then and I was lazy. And it doesn't hurt that the food is so god damn delicious."

It only takes a half hour for me to remember why I gave up on Nicholas Sparks' books a few years back. Once you've read one you've read them all, and it appears the movies are no different. I agree to let Edward switch to _Dark Shadows_ after he informs me that it's much more comedy than it is horror. Plus, Johnny Depp is in it and, well, that fact never hurt anyone.

We're fifteen minutes into the new movie when Maggie starts screaming. I collect her from her crib and rock her in my arms, but her screams only intensify. I try rubbing her back, but that doesn't calm her either. I'm about to start crying myself when Edward appears at my side.

"Here, let me take her." He lifts her into his arms and cradles her, pinching her nose gently and ooohing and aaahing. Maggie quiets down immediately.

"Okay, when did you become the baby whisperer?"

Edward leads us back to the kitchen, where he grabs a bottle of milk from the fridge and runs water to warm it. "I watch too much TLC," he jokes. "I took care of Eric's kids a few times before I moved out here. Of course, they weren't quite as easy to quiet down as this pretty little lady here is."

I watch in silence as Edward gets the bottle ready and feeds Maggie. He looks so relaxed and in his element, and the whole scene is like a shock to my system. I decided eons ago that I wasn't going to have children. They just didn't fit into the lifestyle I saw for myself. I still don't think I want them, but seeing Edward with a baby is like a drop-kick straight to the uterus. Both ovaries are encouraging me to throw myself at him and beg him to impregnate me.

The sudden attraction I feel is unnerving. I'm not immune to Edward's good looks by any means, but up until tonight, everything between us has always felt platonic. Things between us still _are_ platonic, as they should be, but the longer I stare at him, the less innocent my thoughts get.

Then Maggie spits up all over the front of Edward's shirt, which causes him to spit up all over the kitchen floor.

And that's all it takes for my traitorous reproductive organs to stand down and the platonic walls to slip firmly back into place.

.

.

.

 _Chicago, August 2013_

"You turned down a date with a fireman?" The way Rose says it, you'd think I committed a cardinal sin.

"Who turned down a date with a fireman?" Edward struts into the kitchen carrying a plate full of freshly grilled burgers and brats.

"Bella did," Alice explains.

"For fucks sakes, woman, what's wrong with you?" Rose waves a spatula in the air.

"Language, please!" Alice hisses, covering Maggie's ears.

"Oh c'mon, Ali, she won't remember that word by the time she starts talking. Isn't that right, cute stuff?" Rose bends down and pinches Maggie's cheek, but her eyes stay fixed on me. "Seriously, Bella, a rugged fireman is like every woman's proverbial wet dream. Just think about it, you could literally climb his pole. And if he looks like Taylor Kinney …"

Edward leans against the counter, crossing his legs at the ankles and chuckling. "Can someone please explain the appeal to me? The real ones don't look anything like the ones on that TV show. Christ, half of the crew at the station by my apartment is old enough to be my dad. Not to mention the spare tires I see going on there."

"It's all in the uniform," I tell him with a wink.

"Oh yes, the uniform." Rose sighs dreamily as she finishes arranging a stack of Hawaiian buns on a tray. "Every woman loves a man in uniform."

We're at Rose and Emmett's new townhouse, celebrating their housewarming and getting some use out of the backyard while we still can. I've been telling Rose and Alice about my woes, and how I nuked my profile completely a few days earlier.

"So why did you turn down the date with the fireman then?" Edward asks me, eyebrow cocked and smirk in place. My mouth goes dry and I grab a wooden spoon to stir the potato salad.

"She's giving the dating world a break," Alice answers for me.

At this, Edward's eyebrows shoot up. "Has it been that bad?"

"No," I answer. "It's just, well, I'm tired of going on one or two dates and not seeing things work out. So, I'm going to focus on me. I'm going to take a sculpting class and a cooking class, feng shui my apartment, maybe get one of those garden plots I've seen around town. I'm only 32, so it's not like I need to be in any hurry to settle down."

"You can't give up that quick," Rose protests. "I must have gone on at least three dozen bad dates before I stumbled across Emmett. And look at us now? There's a diamond in the rough somewhere on there for you, but closing your account and quitting isn't how you're going to find him."

"You closed your account?" Edward asks.

"Yep. I'm guilty as charged."

"Hmm." He pushes himself off the counter and heads for the door. "Interesting."

Once he's gone, Alice swoops in, all hushed whispers and excitement. "Bella, he's obviously interested in you. Please tell me that's why you closed down your Match stuff?"

"Alice—"

"Oh, no." Rose grabs paper plates and napkins from the cupboard and tosses them on the table next to the veggie tray, then plants her hands firmly on her two-months-pregnant hips. "No, no, no, no, no. You and Edward as friends is one thing. You and Edward as a couple again is too much, too soon."

"Too much, too soon? Oh, please, Rose." Alice brushes her off with a flick of her wrist and turns her attention fully to me. "Look, Bella, Edward is a great guy. He's really got his shit together, and look at how well-received his work has been by the local art world. He's a tall glass of water with good manners and a heart of gold, and he's obviously still got feelings for you. Don't listen to her, Bel—"

"Stop!" I shout, holding my hands up in the air and shaking my head. "Both of you just shut up for a minute." I turn to Alice and frown. "Edward and I are friends. Good friends, who keep each other company, share an inside joke or two, and support one another through the tough times. Yes, we have a history, but that doesn't mean I'm planning on jumping back into his arms." I spin around and fix Rose with a glare. "And you need to learn limits. You're not my mom and you're not the dictator of my life. I'll date who I want to date and dammit, if I want to delete my dating profile, I'll do that, too!"

Rose's face turns beet red. "Oh my god, so you _do_ want to date him?"

"Who wants to date who?" Emmett strolls into the kitchen with the rest of the burgers.

"Bella wants to date Edward," Rose says, hands flying in the air animatedly.

"Hold up, what?" Edward steps around Emmett and fixes his eyes on me. If melting into the floor and becoming one with the vinyl was an option, I'd absolutely take it.

"I never said that!" I shout, a little louder than necessary. Alice looks at Rose, who looks at Emmett, who glances over his shoulder at Edward, who has yet to take his eyes off me.

"Okay, so, who wants a burger?" Jasper pops out from behind Edward and heads for the dining room, tripping over Alice's wayward diaper bag. The fall sends him flying straight into the kitchen table, which promptly tips over. Food goes everywhere and for a minute, nobody says anything.

Then we all burst into a roaring fit of belly-shaking laughter.

The topic of Edward and I doesn't come up in conversation again that night. But every time I steal a glance at him, his eyes are glued to me.

.

.

.

 _Chicago, November 2013_

The stairs leading up to the Museum of Contemporary Art are decorated with a red carpet, which currently holds the crème de la crème of Chicago high society. There's no back way for me to enter, so I grin and bear all the attention, until I'm safely inside with a glass of bubbly in my hand.

Each year the museum holds a big gala fundraiser, complete with a posh dinner and silent auction. Everyone who is anyone attends, and since I now work at one of the more popular galleries in town, it means I'm on the guest list as well.

"This is quite the dog and pony show, isn't it?" I look up into Edward's green eyes and relief overcomes me. Before I even register what I'm doing my arms are around his neck and I'm hugging him close to me.

"Thank goodness you're here," I say when we break apart a moment later. He runs his fingers through his hair and grins.

"Someone is still not a fan of big social functions I see."

I punch his arm lightly and grab another glass of champagne from a passing waitress. "Not one bit. I need all the liquid courage I can get."

"I raise my seltzer water to you," Edward jokes, holding his glass in the air and clinking it against my own. He holds his arm out and cocks an eyebrow at me. "Care to join me in making the rounds? Perhaps if we handle this as a duo it'll make things more tolerable?"

I stare at his arm for a second before slipping mine through it. He leads me around the space and we stop occasionally, chatting with other artists, gallery owners, buyers, and people we mutually know. I have one more glass of champagne and then force myself to stop drinking. I know myself well enough to know if I don't get food in my system soon, I'll be in dire straits by nine o'clock.

Dinner is a big ordeal. Seating is assigned, and fortunately Edward and I are both at a table with Alice and Jasper, so there's no shortage of entertainment.

"You look stunning tonight, by the way," Edward whispers in my ear. A shiver runs up my spine and I can't help but smile at the compliment.

"Thank you. You look pretty dapper yourself."

"Dapper, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

I laugh. "I'm pretty sure that's what the kids called it back in 1920."

"Well then, here's to bringing old slang back." He clinks his fork against mine this time and I don't miss the girly rush that comes with the silly gesture.

Dinner morphs into the silent auction, during which Edward manages to win a couples' trip for two to Italy. I don't ask who his plus one will be for the vacation, as much as I want to. He lives his life and I live mine.

But, man, I think I'd want to cut someone if I found out they were on the trip with him.

Alice and I indulge a bit too much in the chocolaty dessert spread they bring around, and then my least favorite part of the evening arrives—the dancing.

I never quite got the hang of dancing, even when it just meant moving in slow circles with my arms wrapped around another person. I'm a bona fide klutz, a trait I inherited from my father and never managed to shed. Events like this always go the same: one or two men ask me to dance, I accept their offer because I'm too nice of a person to say no, and after about two minutes of witnessing my antics, they deposit me back at my table and find someone who can move without looking like a contortionist.

I'm alone at the table, admiring how beautiful Alice and Jasper look on the dance floor, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Care to show me your moves?" I look up into springtime eyes and a dazzling smile. Every reason I should say no disappears and I find myself standing and taking his extended hand.

"Can I tell you a secret?" I whisper as he leads me out to the middle of the dance floor.

"That's not your real hair?"

"Ha ha, very funny." I tug him to a stop and turn him to face me. "I have no moves. Honestly, I'm the worst dancer in this place."

"Then it's a good thing my nana taught me how to lead." He takes my hands and places them on the tops of his shoulders, then settles his own on my waist. I feel him lift me briefly, like I weigh no more than a feather, and when I look down I see my black heels resting on top of his dress shoes. The sounds of Miles Davis' "Bye Bye Blackbird" fills the air and we start to move in slow circles.

"I must admit, I'm impressed," I say, sliding my hands behind his neck and clasping my fingers together.

"With what?"

"Most men give up on me before the first song is halfway through. You're a brave soul, Cullen."

He chuckles and tips his head forward, stopping when I feel his breath caress my ear and neck. "It's a good thing I'm not most men then." When I look up into his eyes, they're smoldering.

The longer we sway to the music, the less our surroundings matter. Pretty soon it's just Edward and me, in our own corner of the world, swaying to the beat of a song that my Grandma Swan likely danced to when she was a young woman. I take in every detail of the moment; the way Edward's fingers dig ever so lightly into my hips as he holds me, the look of wonder and adoration on his face, and the way my body hums to life just from being near him.

Rose's words from the bar-b-que float their way into my mind, and though I find myself surprised by the fact that we even got here, I know there's truth behind them now. I closed my account because I was hoping we'd get to a point where I could possibly get past what happened and envision a future for Edward and me. It had nothing to do with my being tired of bad dates.

"Bella?" I look up and find Edward staring intently at me. "Can I take you out? On a date?"

His words are unexpected, but immediately ignite the small flame in my chest that was never fully extinguished. I close my eyes, expecting to be bombarded by a slideshow of all the reasons I should say no, but I don't see any of those things anymore. What I see, instead, is a mishmash of moments from the past year. I see us navigating the babysitting world together, one spit-up moment at a time. I see us sitting at Wrigley Field, shocked to find that we both love baseball, even though neither of us has any understanding of what the hell is happening on the field. I see movie nights, summertime trips to Navy Pier, and times spent with the rest of our group of friends.

I don't see Edward, the boy who got caught up in something he wasn't prepared to handle and lost everything. I see Edward, the man who won the battle against his own personal demons and came out on top.

Which is why I don't have to think long before giving him the answer he wants to hear.

"Yes."

* * *

 **A/N:** Miles Davis gives me chills. Especially this song. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**-Chapter 12-**

 _Chicago, November 2013_

"Blue or black?" I hold the two dresses up and Alice looks back and forth between them.

"Blue," she finally says, grabbing the black dress and tossing it up on the bed behind her.

"Black or silver?" I hold up two pairs of heels this time. Alice points to the silver strappy ones and I chuck the other pair in the direction of my closet.

"Rose gold or—"

Alice holds up a hand. "Use your Michael Kors clutch. It goes with the dress. Wear your lacy, cropped cardigan, because you never know what the temperature at the restaurant will be like, and make sure you ditch the bra. You won't need it because the way the dress is cut will help with that."

I fling my arms around my favorite pixie and pull her tight against me. "Thank you, Ali. You're like a Jedi master when it comes to this kind of stuff."

She waves my compliment off and stands. "I just have a slightly unhealthy obsession with dressing everyone else. Now, put those clothes on and get ready, because we're going to beautify you."

Alice spends the next hour making sure my makeup and hair are perfect. I feel runway ready by the time she's done, which is precisely why I invited her over to help me prepare for my date with Edward.

Well, that's not the only reason. Rose, being her loving, protective, pregnant-and-sassy self, can't understand why we're going out in the first place. _"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."_ Those were her exact words the night before when the topic came up. I tried telling her that it's just one date, very simple, no pressure, but she didn't believe me.

So, when it came time to choose a friend to help me get ready, Alice was the winner. I expect Rose will call later tonight, seeking details even though she won't directly ask for them.

What I don't expect is for her to show up at my door ten minutes before Edward is supposed to be here.

"What are you doing here?"

"You could try not to look so shocked, you know." Rose brushes past me and shrugs her coat off, dumping it on a kitchen chair. She spins around and takes in my appearance. "Alice did a nice job."

"Of course I did," Alice says from the end of the hall. "Did you expect anything less than extraordinary?"

I watch the exchange with amusement. "Seriously, Ro, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"I wanted to give you these." Rose pulls a pair of hot pink socks out of her bag and hands them to me. I turn the socks over, noticing they have bananas embroidered all over them.

"Um, well, these are … what the hell are these?"

"My lucky socks," she explains, folding her arms over her chest. "I had these on the night I met Emmett. Wore them for every date after and look at how amazing our relationship has been!"

I scrunch my nose up and hold the socks out a safe distance from myself. Rose rolls her eyes and slaps my hand. "They're clean, asshat. It's not like I don't do my damn laundry."

"Why are you giving me these?" I ask. "You don't even want me to go on the date."

Rose heads to my living room and perches herself on the edge of the loveseat. "I'm not a complete asshole. When push comes to shove, I just want to see you happy. And if I'm being honest, it's been a long time since I've seen your face light up the way it has these past few months."

I want to say something, but Rose continues. "We all make mistakes, some bigger than others. Edward, well … he made lots of mistakes. And he spent the last ten years paying for them. So, if you can forgive him, accept him for who he is, flaws and all, well, then I can do that, too."

My eyes well up with tears and Alice immediately goes into makeup rescue mode. She busies herself with fixing my eyeliner while Rose reaches out and grabs my hand. "I don't do sappy, so I'm going to make this short and sweet: if the man breaks your heart again, I'll bust his balls into a thousand pieces and feed them to him for breakfast."

I laugh and push Alice away, so I can give Rose a proper hug. "I love you, Ro."

"I love you, too, Bell." A knock on the door interrupts our moment and sends my heart into my throat. My friends spring into action, getting my cardigan, checking to make sure I have my keys, and loading my clutch with a compact, a tube of lipstick, and the lucky fruit socks. I kiss them both on the cheek, take a deep, cleansing breath, and pull the door open.

Edward stands before me, looking sinful in a pair of dark wash jeans and a forest green dress shirt. He has a black wool coat on and his hair is styled in such a way that he looks like a modern James Dean. My eyes rake over him at the same time his do me, and we both blurt out a greeting.

"You look beautiful."

"That's quite the ensemble there, James." He furrows his brows, but only for a minute, because we both start laughing.

"Let's try this again." Edward reaches his hand out and takes mine, lifting it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on the top of my fingers. "You look absolutely stunning, Bella."

The head rush is immediate. My palms sweat, my knees start to shake, and for a second I feel like I'm going to pass out. _It's just Edward_ , I remind myself. The thought provides no consolation, however. I'm not sure how he feels, but this night is important to me. Yes, it may just be a date, but it's with the man I've loved for over ten years. Not everyone gets a second chance at something like this, and the significance of that alone is enough to make me want to hurl my guts up onto the floor.

"You look like James Dean," I blurt out. Edward tips his head back and laughs.

"Still as graceful as ever with your words." He holds his hand out and I look up into his eyes. I'm not sure what I expect to see, but what I find are two blazing green pools filled with excitement, apprehension, and hope.

I slip my hand into his and give a gentle squeeze. "Bye girls," Edward calls over my shoulder.

"Seriously?" I scoff. "How did you know they were here?"

Edward tugs me forward, down the stairs and to his waiting car. "I might be a bit rusty at this, but I'm not totally clueless. I've had a few things figured out for years." He winks and opens the door for me, closing it tight after I'm seated.

"What kind of things?" I ask, teasingly.

"The dating rituals of you and Rose."

I think about the pair of hot pink banana socks currently sitting in my clutch and giggle. "You might think you have them figured out, but trust me, you have no idea."

Edward side eyes me as he puts the car in gear. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

We head north on Lake Shore Drive until we reach Lincoln Park. Edward navigates the streets easily, and I can tell he's familiar with wherever it is that we're headed. We come to a stop in front of a strip of eclectic looking stores with a row of walk up apartments above them. There's a coffee shop, a vintage record store, and an empty space with a "For Lease" sign in the window. Edward gets out and opens my door once more, helping me onto the curb.

"Am I overdressed?" I suddenly feel out of place. I'm not sure why, but I expected our destination to be a bit more on the classy side.

"Not at all." He tugs a set of keys out of his pocket and leads me toward the empty shop.

"Where are we?" I ask, following him inside. He flips a light on and I'm greeted by a large, open space.

Edward watches me carefully as he answers. "My gallery."

"Your gallery?" I feel my jaw drop. I spin around as best I can in my heels, imagining what the walls with look like when they're decorated with pieces of art. "You're opening a gallery? I had no idea you were interested in this kind of thing."

"Well, it's actually a gallery for _my_ work." Edward's cheeks and ears flush crimson. "Please don't take that to be as narcissistic as it sounds. My agent suggested I make the investment. The place was available for a decent price, and it'll be a good way to ensure exposure for my work."

"Wow, I'm … Edward, this is incredible." I walk around the room, running my fingers over the freshly painted off-white walls. I can see the place even more clearly now, knowing it's his art that will hang here. The post-apocalyptic spoon and cherry will go well by the door. His watercolor of The Bean, which was since been made into a limited set of prints, would look great along the back wall. I put my mind to work, placing each of his paintings somewhere in the space. I get so absorbed that I almost forget we're here on a date.

"This isn't all." The feel of Edward's hand on the small of my back ignites an electric current that hums just beneath my skin. He guides me toward the back corner and into the office.

A small, wrought iron table sits in the middle of the room. There are place settings for two and a vase that overflows with pink roses sitting atop the table. Edward deposits a paper bag, which I didn't noticed him carrying, next to the table and looks at me shyly.

"I know we're starting over," he says, "but thirteen years ago we had the most perfect first date at a teeny tiny art gallery in Minneapolis. I would never go back to that time, because it would mean having to hurt you all over again, but I wanted to bring a little bit of that night here for us."

I place my hand on his chest and smile up at him. "I love this. It's amazing. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with." He takes the bag he was carrying and tugs a variety of food from it. We sit down and dish up, digging into some amazing looking salads. The conversation ebbs and flows naturally and we talk about everything. When we've finished eating, Edward places a wrapped gift on the table and pushes it towards me.

"What's this?" I ask, grabbing it.

"Open it," he says. I tug the ribbon off and shed the wrapping to find a glass jar filled with scraps of paper and what look like Hershey Kisses. I spin the object around in my hands until I see the cardstock adhered to the front of it.

"Why I fell in love with you," I read aloud, tears choking up the final few words. I unhook the jar lid and flip it back. Reaching inside, I grab the first sheet of paper I can. I unfold it and read the message jotted in Edward's familiar scrawl. "The way your eyes start to dance any time you talk about something you love."

"That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we start dating," Edward's voice sounds far off, thanks to the loud thump-thump-thump of my heart. I reach in the jar again, pulling out another message.

"Your compassion."

Edward smiles and looks down at his hands. "You have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. And you're always willing to open it. Seriously, Bella, I hope you realize how much of an inspiration you are."

I do nothing to stop the tears from trickling down my cheek. My hand shakes as I reach in the jar one more time, pulling out a sheet with one single word on it.

"Forgiveness."

"It takes a special person to forgive those who have done them wrong. I probably don't deserve as much understanding as you've shown me, and I especially don't deserve to be sitting here with you right now, but your ability to forgive is why I am." He reaches across the table and takes both of my hands in his. "I want you to read all these when I drop you off. I want you to know the ins and outs of the love I feel for you. And I want you to know that even after you left, I never stopped loving you."

Edward stands and pulls me to my feet. He cradles my face between his hands and springtime eyes meet cherry cola ones. I feel like I've been stripped bare, like he can see beneath every layer and into my soul.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he whispers. My breath catches in my throat and time seems to stand still. "Can I kiss you Bella? Please?"

I barely have a chance to nod and his lips are on mine, warm and soft, demanding yet gentle. His mouth moves against mine and his tongue slides along my lips, seeking access to parts of me I've kept locked away for a decade. I grab his hair and melt into him, feeling a rush of exhilaration mixed with the familiarity of coming home. I breathe him in and exhale out the past. And bit-by-bit, piece-by-piece, the last few bricks of the wall I'd erected so many years ago fall away, and all that's left is my heart. It's been bruised before, even broken, but I know it's in good hands this time around.

.

.

.

Hours later we arrive back at my apartment. Edward holds my hand as we make our way up the stairs, refusing to let go until we're standing face-to-face, nose-to-nose in front of my door.

"Tonight was amazing, Bella. I can't thank you enough for letting me see you."

"You don't need to thank me, Cullen. I had a wonderful time, too." I stand on my toes and kiss him chastely on the cheek. He pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin against the top of my head.

"Can I see you again?"

I pull back and look up at him, fully aware that there's a 100-watt smile dancing on my face.

"Absolutely."

* * *

 **A/N:** Has anyone's significant other given them a jar like that before? I wanna know and I wanna hear the story surrounding it. The whole concept gets to the cheesy romantic side of me. :)


	13. Chapter 13

**-Epilogue-**

 _Chicago, February 2015_

"Watch your step!" Edward grabs my elbow and stops me from completely face planting.

"My god, how many flights of stairs are you taking me up?!"

He chuckles behind me. "One more and we'll be there."

"Do I dare ask what you've got up your sleeve?"

"You'll see soon enough." Edward lets go of my elbow. "Please don't move. The last thing we need is a trip to the hospital added into our festivities."

I laugh and lean against the wall while he does whatever he needs to do. Moments later, I'm guided forward and the blindfold on my head is finally removed.

"Surprise!"

I open my eyes and gasp, covering my mouth with my hands. We're in a loft— a much bigger loft than the one we once shared in Minneapolis. There are floor to ceiling windows again, only this time, they look out over Michigan Avenue and the lake.

"Holy shit, Edward. This view is incredible!"

"I had a feeling you'd love it." He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, until my back is flush with his front. "Navy Pier is over there," he points in one direction, "Lincoln Park is up that way, and your favorite beach is somewhere out there on the other side of that building."

"Show me the rest?" He takes me around, showing off hardwood floors, two fireplaces, granite countertops, and stainless-steel appliances. The bedroom has a balcony attached to it, and I can already see us sitting out there on Saturday mornings, coffee in hand as he paints, and I read a book. It's our own slice of heaven amidst the otherwise bustling city, and I love it.

"Did you see the fireplaces?" Edward is as giddy as a kid on Christmas morning.

"Is this ours? You're not teasing me or anything, are you?"

He shakes his head and strides to the kitchen, where he pulls a bouquet of red roses and a small gift bag from one of the cupboards. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby." I peek inside the bag and gasp. A Tiffany & Co. box sits comfortably inside, with a set of house keys tied to the ribbon. I pull the box out and take the keys off carefully, slipping them into the pocket of my jeans. I open the box next and my heart starts to race. There, nestled inside a blanket of velvet, is a gorgeous ring. The entire band consists of tiny X's and O's, with the top four O's filled in with diamonds. I pull the ring from the cushion and hold it up to the light.

"Edward, this is beautiful, but it's too much," I say.

He closes the gap between us, taking the ring from my hand and sliding it onto the fourth finger of my right hand. "Nothing is too much for you, Bella." He presses lips to the ring on my finger, and I shiver at the feel of his touch.

"I love the diamonds."

"Well, I figure since we aren't quite ready for a big diamond, four small ones should hold you over until the time is right." I giggle at his confession, sliding my hands up his chest and over his shoulders. I pull him into a tight embrace, burying my face in the side of his neck.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

He pulls away and gazes down at me. "I ask myself that question every single day."

We've come so far in the last year, but we still have so much ahead of us.

A life full of love, laughter, and memories.

A blank canvas on which we can create our own brilliant slice of art.

And four tiny diamonds to guide us along our way…

Until we're ready for a bigger one.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and review this. Cejsmom, happy FAGE to you! I love, love, love writing the angst, so your prompt was the perfect one for me. And it was my first time having you as a recipient! I certainly hope this has been a ride you enjoyed taking! ;)

Until next time ...

xo


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